Time's Arrow
by Kryten
Summary: On what was supposed to be just an average trip to Dino Land, Helga and Arnold cross paths with a very unusual girl, but neither of them knows just how important she will be to their future.
1. Who's That Girl?

Time's Arrow

Chapter 1

Who's That Girl?

_This story is set during May of Fifth Grade… mostly._

Dino Land. The scariest place on Earth. Well, second scariest after school. But, today, there was no competition, as it was the day of the annual teachers' convention. Supposedly, the annual retreat was an opportunity for teachers to learn about new methods and techniques. The students had their own suspicions. They pictured a sort of Bacchanal, featuring debaucheries unseen since the age of Caligula's Rome. In any case, school was closed for the day, and every year, Dino Land took advantage of the fact by scheduling its opening day to coincide with the conference, offering half-price admission to maximize its young clientele. Today, we turn our attention to one particular member of that clientele.

"That'll be $29.99," the ticket-seller absently demanded. The subject of the bored teenage boy's demand was a young girl, recently turned eleven. The girl was not what anyone would call pretty, least of all herself. She had a bulbous nose, ears that hung a bit too low, and a mouth set in an almost permanent scowl. Her blond hair stuck out in two stiff pigtails that seemed to defy gravity. Even her best feature, a pair of sapphire-blue-eyes, were framed by a thick, continuous eyebrow. She glared out from under that brow at the world, as if daring it to cross her.

_-HELGA-_

"I don't think so, Pizzaface," I replied with a smirk, fishing something out of my wallet. "Read it and weep. I got me a lifetime free pass, bucko."

The ticket seller glared right back, not used to kids talking back. He took the pass. "Helga G. Pataki, huh? What's the G for?"

"Better men than you have tried to find out. Now make with the admission, Zit Boy."

"It's a medical condition," he whined, his voice cracking. "Okay… hologram checks out… ultraviolet watermark checks out… microprinted security code checks out…. Fiber-optic chip checks out… It's legit. You can go in," he said, handing it back.

"Great, we're all done here?" I asked. "Got to exercise the tiny bit of authority you have? You feel like a big boy now?"

"Y-yes," the ticketseller whimpered, eager to get the scary kid to move on.

"Good," I said. "I'm glad we had this moment. Maybe one day it'll give you the courage to speak to a girl your _own_ age."

"F-for your information, I have a girlfriend!" the ticket guy called after me.

_Oh, I bet you do,_ _In Canada. In your imagination. _I sighed deeply to myself at the thought. _Yeah, right, Helga, like your romantic life is any better. Seven years and you still can't tell him how you feel. Not without freaking out and walking it back._

The thought dampening my mood, I tucked the pass back into my wallet. At least one good thing had come out of my short-lived career as Johnny Stitches' "It Girl". With Bob's beeper business circling the crapper, there was no way I would've been even able to get even a half-price admission out of him. Not that getting money out of that tightwad was easy even when times were good…

Well, at least I was in, and soon, I'd be seeing Arnold. The merest thought of it briefly drove the dark clouds out of my brain and allowed the light to flood in. _Oh, my beloved,_ _if only you knew the joy you bring with even your merest presence. O, would that I could overcome my timid heart and speak, nay, shout from the rooftops, the love I feel for you! Would that my fear would fade and I could declare the rapturous joy I feel at the sight of that wild cornflower hair, those dreamy, half-lidded verdant eyes, and that noble ovate cranium! O, how my heart doth leap at the very thought of-_

And, lost in such rapturous thoughts, once again, I found herself colliding with someone. It wasn't the first time. It wasn't even the twentieth. _Criminy. You'd think by now I'd learn to watch where I was going_.

"Watch where you're going, F-" I would've finished "Football-Head", it was reflex at this point, seeing as he was almost always the one I was colliding with. This time, however, it wasn't the case. The person in question this time was a girl around my age, dressed in a blue plaid shirt, loose-fitting jeans, and heavy boots, with a mass of messy blonde hair under a blue knit cap.

"Sorry," the girl said brusquely, turning away.

"Yeah, you _better_ be," I called after her. I never was one to just let things drop.

"Look, I _said_ I was sorry, okay? You don't have to make a federal case out of it!" the girl said, whirling to face me. "I don't have the time to deal with this!"

I sneered. "Why? 'Cause you're scared, Princess?"

The girl smirked. "No… it's 'cause I'm pretty sure I'd break you in half."

The sneer left my face. No girl ever talked back to me like that. Except Big Patty, of course, and she had the size and the bulk to back it up. "Says who," I said, glaring.

"Says The Wrath," the new girl replied, raising her left fist. "And The Fury's got her back," she continued, raising her right.

_She named her fists. I thought I was the only one who did that. _I was unsure how to proceed at this point. Bluster usually worked, but this girl wasn't being intimidated, and I had the sneaking suspicion she could back up her tough talk.

In fact, looking at this girl felt strangely like looking into some sort of distorted mirror. A mirror that reflected not an image, but an attitude, an air of "mess with me at your own peril."

"You're all right," I finally conceded, actually impressed at finding a girl who could stand up to me. "You got a name, Mystery Girl?"

"Trudy," she replied, offering her hand for a shake. "You?"

"Helga," I answered, taking hold. The new girl's eyebrow shot up at the response. _I guess my reputation precedes me, _I thought proudly.

"That's… not exactly a common name," she said uneasily. "I only know one other Helga, and she's my…" She paused, as if considering something.

"Your…" I prompted.

"It's… it's not important," Trudy deflected. "Look, I gotta go. I got separated from my friends and I really need to find them, okay?"

"Yeah, fair enough," I said. "I'm supposed to meet my friends by the fountain anyway. Smell ya later, Trudy."

"Yeah, okay, bye," the girl said hastily, scurrying off. Yeesh. That had gotten weird fast. I usually have that kind of effect on people, but not when I'm trying to be _friendly_. She'd been perfectly willing to stand up to me when I was ready to knock her block off, so why was she suddenly all squirrely around me now?

Eh… probably didn't matter, it wasn't like I was ever gonna see the girl again. She probably went to a completely different school. It wasn't like us PS118 kids were the only ones taking advantage of half-price day. Practically every kid in Hillwood would be here today.

Speaking of… I was gonna be late for the gang's meeting if I didn't get a move on. A late start on today, of all days, would ruin all our plans. I made my way to the fountain, hoping I hadn't been delayed too much.

Yep, they were all still there. There was no mistaking the dark brown spire that was Geraldo's hair. He'd started angling the top lately, but it was still ridiculously tall and stupid-looking. Jeez… what'd Pheebs see in that guy?

"All right, dorks, let's get this show on the road!" I declared upon arrival. "Pinkboy, step away from the Tar Taffy stand!"

"Aw, but I'm hungry!" complained Harold.

"Yeah, well, stuff your face after we go on the rides, tubbo, I ain't cleanin' your puke outta my hair. Especially not _sticky_ puke. Princess! Enough selfies!"

"Just one more," Rhonda said, posing in front of the fountain. "I simply can _not_ disappoint my Instagraph subscribers."

Yeah, all, what, five of them? "Criminy, this is gonna be a long day. C'mon, ya bozos, we gotta get a move on!"

"Sheesh, Helga," Gerald interjected dismissively. "What's the big hurry?"

"The big hurry, Tall Hair boy, is _The Raptor._"

"The Raptor?" asked Stinky, confused. "What in tarnation is that?"

"Boy howdy, Stinky, you haven't heard about _The Raptor_?" Sid asked incredulously. "It's only the newest, most awesomest ride in the whole park!"

"I heard it's got eleven individual loops," Iggy said.

"I heard it hits speeds of over eighty miles an hour," added Nadine excitedly.

"Well, _I_ heard it's _so_ scary, they have a defibrillator on hand in case someone's heart needs to be restarted," Rhonda commented.

"Actually, that's a common misconception," Phoebe interjected. "What a defibrillator actually does is _stop_ an abnormally fast heart so it can resume at a normal-"

"Not the time, Pheebs. Point is, we gotta get over there right now or the line's gonna be so long that by the time we get on we'll be in college! Now, is this everybody?" I looked around. Arnold was nowhere to be seen.

"Arnold's running late," Gerald replied, "and Eugene… well, he's out for the day." He shook his head. "Mmm-mmm-mmm, he's gotta be the only guy who can get a broken leg and a concussion at the face-painting booth."

"I'm a kitty…" Eugene groggily declared as he was loaded into the ambulance.

"Well, we can't wait. Every minute we delay is twenty more in line." _Forgive me my love… passion is one thing, but I am NOT blowing a chance at the Raptor. _"Football-Head's on his own."

* * *

_-TRUDY-_

It was a coincidence.

It _had_ to be a coincidence.

I mean, statistically, there had to be more than one person named Helga in the world, right? Because, otherwise, that would mean I've been…

…no, no, that's crazy talk. It's all a coincidence. It has to be. As for everything else… probably the only reason I can't find Akiko, Riva and Courtney is because they're running around like crazy looking for me!

Yeah, that had to be it. If I stop looking so hard and just stay in one place long enough, I'm sure they'll find me. Of course, I could probably just go to the kiddie section where Mom and Dad are and sort this out, but do I really need to? I'm a big girl. I can handle this.

Ugh… this was just supposed to be a fun day at Dino Land. Hang out with my friends, ride The Raptor one last time before it gets decommissioned… but no, everything went south when we bumped into those two weirdos. There was this old guy who looked like he stepped out of a Steampunk fair and his friend in the shades and tracksuit. They were arguing, the old guy dropped something, it rolled toward me, there was a flash, and suddenly they and all my friends were gone, but I was still there, seemingly exactly where I'd been. Had they been warped somewhere else somehow? Mom dealt with this kind of weird stuff all the time, but me… I'm still a rookie. I had to be careful. Especially in a crowded place like this. The rules were clear… stay discreet.

So, the plan, then, was to stay here , in the general area between the Pterodactyl Egg Cups and the Jurassic Bumper Cars, and wait until someone found me. _Fun_. I couldn't even go on any of the rides lest they miss me. Nothing to do but watch the crowd and be _not_ entertained by the antics of Stevie Stego, one of the park's mascots.

Still I should probably at least check in with my mom, right? I fished my B-Phone Z out of my pocket (ancient, but it got the job done). The transparent beveled rectangle woke up as it read my genetic signature and displayed its home screen, but also a "NETWORK NOT FOUND" message. Weird, I should at least be able to get 7G coverage in a major population center like this. Did that device damage my phone too?

Maybe this particular area was a dead spot. I started moving around to try to find a signal, but distracted, I bumped into someone behind me. "Oh, sorry," I apologized.

"No, it's okay, it's my fault," a kind-sounding voice replied. "You look like you're having trouble, can I help?"

"No biggie, my phone's just all gorked up is all… I was just trying to get a signal. But I guess this whole area's coverage is down or something." I put my phone away and turned to face the helpful stranger. "Thanks, anyway…"

"Arnold," he replied. Funny coincidence. First I meet someone with the same name as my mom, and then I meet someone with the same name as—

My jaw dropped as his face came into view. His disproportionately large, uniquely football-shaped face.

My _dad's_ face.

Everything was starting to click into place now. Oddly-dressed strangers, my friends' disappearance, that strange girl with my mom's name (who, now that I think of it, kinda looked more than a little like her), the complete lack of cel coverage, and now this.

It wasn't my friends that ha disappeared. It was _me_. And I hadn't been sent to another place… I'd been sent back in _time_.

No. I was definitely not ready for this.

* * *

**A.N.: So, yeah, the original plan was to do the Ladybug crossover, but I changed my mind. **

**Disclaimer: Only Trudy, Akiko, Courtney and Riva are mine. Everything else is created by Craig Bartlett and owned by Viacom, except for a couple of characters that I hint at this chapter. Free hugs if you can guess who they are. :)**

**Up next: Family Reunion**


	2. Wibbley-Wobbly Timey-Wimey

Chapter 2

Wibbly-Wobbly Timey Wimey

_Earlier that day (from Trudy's perspective)_

_25 years later (from ours)_

Once again, the day of the annual teachers' retreat had come. And once again, hordes of kids had been let loose on Dino Land.

Four such children had arrived in the central plaza of the park, eager to start their day.

Taking up the lead was one Gertrude Francesca Pataki-Shortman, Trudy to her friends, a tomboyish girl of ten years. Her parents, a college professor and an author/screenwriter/politician (and part-time superheroine) were nominally the chaperones for the day, but they'd opted to take her four-year-old brother Robbie to the kiddie area of the park, leaving the older girls on their own.

First among her companions was Riva Berman, a pleasingly pudgy otaku with a demented sense of humor. The two had been besties since nursery, and knew each other about as well as any two people could.

Next was Akiko Johanssen, fashionista and organizational nut, but not without her spontaneous side. She was, at this moment, checking out the park's app to get an idea of how to plan out the day.

"Okay," she said, "looks like there's a section closed off around the Archaeopte-Whirl. Something about an… exploding nut stand? Weird. Anyway, I guess that ride's out…" She unconsciously brushed one of her chocolate-colored curls out of her eyes, a move that made Trudy sweat just the teeniest bit. Not that anyone noticed; Trudy had become very adept at hiding her crush on the girl. It was just as well, since Akiko likely did not return her affection, and in any case they worked so well as friends that trying to go for something more would just mess everything up.

"I've heard good things about the Megalodon," suggested the final member of their group, Courtney Robinson-Lloyd, a quiet, unassuming girl a year younger than the rest of the gang. She didn't usually hang out with them, and for good reason; she actually lived on the opposite coast of the country. But her moms were here in Hillwood on family business, and since they were old friends of the gang's parents, Courtney had been talked into joining them on today's outing.

"We should probably save that for later, when it gets hotter and we need to cool down," replied Akiko. "I was thinking we'd start with the Mesozoic Go-Karts and work our way around methodically."

"Ah yes," Riva mused, "the legendary beasts that roamed the ancient grasslands, feasting on smaller vehicles like scooters and unicycles."

"How would they even run, anyway?" Trudy pondered. "There were no charging stations in prehistoric times."

"I heard cars used to run on dead dinosaurs," Courtney suggested. "I'm sure there were plenty of those around."

"Okay, just stop," Akiko interrupted, having inherited from her mother a compulsion to correct scientific misunderstandings. "First off, cars used to run on fossil _fuels _like gasoline, which were produced by prehistoric living matter breaking down. Not actual dinosaur corpses."

"We know," Trudy interjected, nipping Akiko's tirade in the bud. "It's a _joke_."

"…oh," Akiko said with a blush, making Trudy's heart flutter again just a little. _There should be a law against someone being that adorable, _she thought.

She cleared her throat. "I think we should start our day by saying goodbye to one of this park's greatest attractions… The Raptor."

"The what now?" asked Courtney.

"Oh, right, you've never been here. The Raptor was the greatest coaster of its time. Those who rode it experienced incredible speeds, crushing Gs, and dizzying weightlessness. Sadly, it's being decommissioned this year… but we get to… nay, we NEED to… pay our respects by riding it one last time. Or one first time in your case."

"You had me at incredible speeds," Courtney replied. "That's definitely something I need to have in my life."

"You can _fly_," pointed out Riva. "Actually… I'm kinda the only one of us who _can't_."

That was another thing that most of this group had in common, the thing that made it unique; three out of four members weren't entirely human, something they'd inherited from their mothers. Years ago, when the three of them had still been preteen girls, they'd been infected by alien spores in the jungles of San Lorenzo. These spores lurked in their systems for months until they merged with a flu shot the girls received in school later that year, which spawned a virus that caused some pretty severe mutations, and granted them unbelievable powers. After a series of unfortunate events, the three had been "cured" after a fashion, enabling them to reassume their human appearances for extended periods of time so they could live something of a normal life, though they had decided to put their new powers to good use as Hillwood's resident superhero team. Time had moved on, and the girls grew up and started families and careers; their children, though seemingly born human, had inherited a dormant version of the virus that would become active later on. Trudy had been the first to undergo the change; Akiko and Courtney followed a couple of years later. The three were still adapting to the changes they'd gone through and learning to use their powers, and it would probably be a while before they could officially take their places as the next generation of heroes, but they were eager for the chance to prove themselves.

But today wasn't about the future. Today was about living in the now in this monument built to the distant past.

"Hey," Trudy explained, "just 'cause a girl can lift a truck or shoot lasers from her fingers doesn't mean she can't appreciate the perfect coaster ride."

"And The Raptor _is_ the perfect coaster ride. It's been scientifically determined."

Courtney huffed, subconsciously imitating her mother whenever she got exasperated. "Less talking, more riding." She began pushing her way through the crowd.

"They grow up so fast," beamed Riva.

* * *

Meanwhile, not far way in the park, two other, older visitors were having a difference of opinion.

"C'mon!" the younger one, a tanned, curly-haired man in his late thirties, clad in a red tracksuit with yellow and orange stripes and matching sunglasses, cajoled his older companion. "It's Terri Dactyl! We gotta get a picture with her!" He put his arm around the capering mascot.

"We most certainly do not," the elder, a fastidious, balding, mustachioed man in his early sixties dressed in pseudo-Victorian styles countered. "The mission, Dakota-"

"-which we already failed-" interjected Dakota.

"-which we already failed," the older one conceded, "was to protect a stand selling roasted pistachios. As that mission has failed, in what I can only describe as a baffling series of events, our current objective is make our report and move on to our next assignment. Not to dawdle around in this amusement facility clearly intended for _children_."

"We're all _someone's_ children." Dakota reminded him. "Besides… we're time travelers. We can instantly travel to any time, to any exact second. Are we gonna be in trouble if we take a little extra time to stop and smell the roses, or ride the egg cups, or hit the saltwater taffy stand?"

"Hmmm… I do confess a certain fondness for saltwater taffy… very well, I suppose we can stay for an hour or so…"

"All right! You're not gonna regret this, Cavendish! Now get on in here."

"I'll pass, thank you."

"Hey, your loss. I've had a crush on this prehistoric lady since I was five, and now I finally get to take a picture with her. Now, lemme get my camera…" Dakota rummaged in his tracksuit jacket, pulling out a strange round device dotted with flashing colored lights. "Huh," he said. "Coulda sworn it was this pocket."

"Dakota, what is that?"

"Oh, this? It's that thing I picked up when we met that guy, you know, with the scarf? Doctor… something or other. You remember right?"

"Indeed. Quite a bizarrely dressed individual."

"…really. You're saying… _you're _saying… that someone had a bizarre outfit."

"Yes, yes I am. Why?"

"Never mind. Anyway, I think he called it a 'Timey-Wimey Ball.'"

"And what does it do?"

"You know, I never asked. I'm guessing something to do with time."

"So… you are telling me that you brought unknown, untested technology on a mission."

"Well, yeah, if you wanna make it sound _bad_ you could say that…"

"In what way can you make that _not_ sound bad?"

"You could say I brought it along to give it a stress test in a mission environment-"

"And did you?"

"Well, no, but-"

"Unbelievable. Now, give me that. It's likely far too dangerous to be in your irresponsible hands." Cavendish snatched up the device. "If you need me, I'll be-" He was cut off as he collided with a nine-year-old girl with dark hair, dropping the device.

"Sorry," Courtney apologized meekly.

"Looks like you really dropped the ball on that one," Dakota quipped. Silence. "'Cause, you know, it was a sphere, and you dr- ah, forget it, it's not funny if I have to explain it."

Courtney shrugged. "No, I got it. It was a little funny."

The ball in question rolled forward towards Trudy, who was close behind her friend. Noticing the device, she bent down to pick it up. "Hey," she said, "I think you dropped th-"

The ball suddenly released a blinding flash of light. When their vision finally cleared, the ball remained, its lights gone dark… but Trudy Pataki-Shortman was nowhere to be seen.

"Okay," Dakota said, "_Now_ we're in trouble."

* * *

**A.N: Well, those of you who guessed Cavendish and Dakota, good eye! By the way, this is actually one of their first missions together, so if they appear a bit more contentious than normal, that's the reason. This was originally going to be the third chapter, but I realized we should probably see how Trudy wound up in the past before the story continues. We'll get back to the present/her past next chapter.**

**Addendum to last chapter's disclaimer: Balthazaar Cavendish and Vinnie Dakota were created by Dan Povenmire and Jeff "Swampy" Marsh and are ©Disney.**

**J.A.M.: Not a ton of newsstands in amusement parks; Trudy'll have to learn the date another way.**

**Penguin Lord: Well, two out of three are there… although a lot of things seem to be going wrong. Who knows?**

**Jose: Yep! Underrated show.**

**Next: Trudy meets the gang!**


	3. Daddy-Daughter Day: The Next Generation

Chapter 3

Daddy-Daughter Day: The Next Generation

_-ARNOLD-_

It was days like today, trying to make my way through this crowd of unruly third-to-sixth graders, that I wished I could… just a little, mind you… be more like her.

Sure, most of the time she was the bane of my existence… not just mine, but everyone else's… and sure, she was rude, violent, hurtful, and treated people like either irritants or servants… but one thing I admired about her (yes, admired, not that I would ever tell anyone) was that she never, ever took crap from anyone. Knowing her, she would've shoved her way through this crowd, instead of being bounced around like a pinball like I was.

It didn't help that I was already running late to meet the gang, I would've been on time if I hadn't had to help Grandpa with a plumbing emergency; Oskar had flushed some papers that he shouldn't have flushed (they'd been too wet to read, but I had a sneaking suspicion that they were divorce papers from Suzie; she'd finally walked out on him a few months ago, though he seemed pretty sure that she'd be back any day now), and having a toilet out of commission was a devastating thing in a crowded boarding house. Once the disaster had finally been dealt with, I'd managed to escape, only to miss the bus and get stuck waiting 20 minutes for the next one.

So far, this trip to Dino Land was shaping up to be pretty lousy. Of course, there was no way it could be as bad as my last one… _that_ time, I'd gotten stuck with Eugene on the Tyrano-Scareus Rex for three hours. What were the odds of that happening again?

…probably pretty good, given that over the last year I'd also fallen down a sewer, gotten stuck on a subway car, stuck in a tree, trapped in an elevator… maybe Eugene was right. Maybe it _was_ me who was the jinx.

So here I am now, attempting to find my way through this crowd, a victim of my own polite nature. The same nature that prompts _me_ to be the one to apologize when the crowd pushes me into a guy who is clearly lost in his phone and not at all paying attention to his surroundings.

"Oh, sorry," he – correction she – her boyish clothing had thrown me, but that was definitely a feminine voice – said, still not looking away from her phone. It was one of those fancy new models that was pretty much a mini-computer. I only knew a few whose parents could afford one. Whoever her parents were must be pretty well-off.

"No, it's okay, it's my fault," I found myself saying, even though it really hadn't been. "You look like you're having trouble, can I help?"

"No biggie," she said, "my phone's just all gorked up is all…" "Gorked"? I guess that was some new slang they were using at PS 120 (or more likely, some fancy place like Peavine), or wherever it was she went. "I was just trying to get a signal," she continued, "but I guess this whole area's coverage is down or something." She tucked the phone back in her jeans pocket and turned towards me. "Thanks, anyway…"

"Arnold," I introduced myself, offering my hand as I finally got a good look at her face. The girl had a rounded head, messy pale-blond hair, green eyes under thick, untended brows, and a large rounded nose. Not exactly what anyone would call pretty, but there was just something about her… something I couldn't place. Some… quality I couldn't quantify that was oddly compelling.

She seemed lost for a moment, as if she was trying to process something.

"Are you all right? I asked.

"Oh, yeah, you, um… you just looked… familiar is all," she said. She offere her hand back. "My name's Trudy… Trudy Sh- Schwartzman."

"That's kind of a funny coincidence. My last name's Shortman. We almost have the same last name."

"Heh, yeah, isn't that weird," she said with an awkward laugh. "Well, it's a strange world… Anyway, it was nice meeting you, but I really have to get moving."

"What's the hurry?" I said.

"Oh, well, I got separated from my group, and I really should find them. So I should probably go to the, uh, information desk or something… make an announcement…"

"Hey, why don't I come with you?" I offered.

"That's really not necessary," she responded. "I can probably handle it on my own, and I don't wanna waste your time or anything…"

"It's really no trouble at all." I don't know why, but I had a good feeling about this girl. It felt like I could really get somewhere with her, which would be welcome after the year I spent banging my head against the brick wall that was Lila Sawyer.

Not that she wasn't a nice girl. Oh, she was nice all right. Almost to a fault. And pretty? Yes, she was very pretty. But after all this time, it was pretty clear that she wasn't the least bit interested in me, and, I don't know, maybe call it sour grapes, but now that I'd had some time to think about it… she just didn't feel like she was the right one for me. She was a little too nice, almost like on some level, she wasn't a real person.

Trudy, though… in the minute or so that I'd known her, it felt like we already had a special connection of some kind. Maybe that's why she seemed so jumpy…. Maybe she was feeling it too, and wasn't sure how to act on it. Maybe if the two of us spent more time together, she'd get more comfortable around me and begin to act more natural.

"Seriously, I can handle it myself. There's really no reason for you to come with me…"

"I insist. The park's really packed today. It'll be very easy to get lost in the crowd. With the two of us together it'll be easier."

Trudy let out an exasperated groan. "Fine, since you clearly can't take no for an answer, you can come along."

"Great, and in the meantime, you can tell me about yourself," I said, eager to learn more about this girl. I don't know what exactly it was that was drawing me to her, but maybe for once it was time to follow my instincts.

* * *

_-TRUDY-_

This was a disaster.

My mom once gave me some advice about time travel. It was "Don't do time travel. Time travel is never a good idea. Just stay away from it no matter what you do." That's the kind of advice you get when your mom's a superhero. Well, the choice was clearly out of my hands. Like it or not, I'm stuck in the past. Twenty-five years in the past, if the info-kiosk I'd passed was accurate. That put me only a month before the trip to San Lorenzo. A mere five weeks and change from today, my parents would take a journey down to the tiny Central American public that would, in one fell swoop, reunite a family, begin a romance, and birth several superheroes.

And on top of being thrown a quarter century back, I've gotten stuck with my own dad as a sidekick. At least, I'm pretty sure it's my dad. How many Arnold Shortmans with football-shaped heads could there possibly be in this world?

I knew that nothing good could come of hanging around my parents. There were so many things that could possibly go wrong. What if I said something or did something that changed the future? I could wind up not existing.

Or even worse… what if I was _supposed_ to be here and I wind up _not_ doing a thing I was supposed to and I wind up not existing?

Ugh, it was all so confusing. No wonder mom warned me about it.

So, now, my dad, kind, helpful soul that he was, had taken it upon himself to be my knight-errant and help me do something that I had had no intention of doing in the first place. I mean, who was I going to make an announcement to? Friends who won't even be born for over a decade? But I'd told my lie and now I had to stick to it, and concoct even more lies (to my own father, I remind you), to maintain my cover.

After all, what was I gonna tell him? "Hi! I'm from the future! And I just happen to be your daughter! Oh, and Helga Pataki's. She's the girl you're destined to marry. Also, I have superpowers because she's gonna become a half-alien mutant." Yeah, that wouldn't make me look crazy at all.

"So… Trudy," he asked. "I've never seen you around before. Where do you go to school?"

"Uh, PS121," I hastily answered.

"I didn't know there was a 121."

"It's new. Just opened this year."

"Oh," he said. I gotta be careful. My lies have to be at least plausible. They should at least sound like they have the kernel of truth inside. Too bad I've never been good at lying. Something I get from my dad. Who also happened to be the one I'm lying to. What a mess this was…

"So, what do your parents do?" he continued.

"My dad teaches history at Hillwood University. My mom's an author," This much was true, at least.

"Oh? What's she written?" he asked. Ugh, stupid follow-up questions!

"Oh, you know, boring grownup novels. Lurid murder mysteries mostly. Probably nothing you'd be into." That should end that line of inquiry.

"I dunno about that. I like mysteries. I have every Purdy Boys book ever written."

I know, I inherited most of them. "Oh, no, the stuff she writes is way more adult than any Purdy Boys book. It gets pretty gruesome."

"Hey, I've seen all three Evil Twin movies. I can handle gruesome."

"Oh, no no no, this stuff makes Evil Twin look like Happy Unicorn Adventures. The really old one, not that good one. Not for kids at all."

"Well, if you say so…" Oh, good, maybe he was at last getting the point. "What kind of books are you into?" Ugggh, it never stops. He's awful prying for someone who just wants to help me find the information desk.

Still, there was no reason to lie on this one. "Sci-fi, fantasy, mostly."

"Cool. Have you read any Agatha Caulfield?"

"I _love_ Agatha Caulfield." Though the author had passed away several years before I'd been born, her books were still beloved by countless children and those who were children at heart. "My favorite was 'The Secret of the Lost Forest.'"

"Yeah, that was a really good one. I love the scene where Timothy outwits the gnomes."

"Yeah, what really gets me is how descriptive she w- is. She really paints her scenes in such detal that you feel like you're there." This is so weird. I'm talking to my dad like he's just another kid.

…of course, at this point he _is_ just another kid. He won't be my dad for fifteen years. Thinking about him as if he's the same person that I know is a mistake. Probably goes for my mom too, if I ever run into her again.

"Oh, hey, look, there's the information desk. I'll be fine now, you should probably go join your friends or something."

"Well, if you're sure…"

"I am. Go. You've done your good deed for the day."

"Okay… but I hope we can see each other soon."

_And I hope you don't see me again until I'm born, because every second I'm here is another thing that can go horribly wrong. _"'Kay, bye thanks," I said, dismissively waving him off.

"Um… okay, bye," he said, finally moving off. Thank goodness. It felt like things were going to get awkward the longer we were together.

Of course, there was the question of what I was going to do now? Where could I go? I was stuck here away from my friends and family. There was no one I could go to.

Well… I suppose if you're stuck in the past, there are worse places than Dino Land. I could at least try to have some fun as long as I'm here.

* * *

_-HELGA-_

"Well, well, well, it's about time you joined us, Football Head," I remarked acidly.

"Nice to see you too, Helga," he deadpanned sarcastically. In truth, there's very little on this green Earth that fills me with joy more than his presence, and yet, these inner demons of mine simply will not let me express that joy; rather, they beckon, nay, compel me to spew my verbal bile at him whenever he is near. O cruel contrarian nature, why must you torment me so? Why can I not speak my true intentions? Why do they turn to bitter poison in my throat?

"Well, we already went on the Raptor, so I guess you missed out, Hair Boy. The group's moving on."

"Don't worry, man," Gerald attempted to reassure him. "It wasn't that great."

"Are you lying to make me feel better, Gerald?" he asked knowingly.

"It was the most amazing ride I've ever been on in my entire life! I can still see it every time I close my eyes!" he gushed. "Where were you, bro? It wasn't the same without you."

"Hmmph. The little do-gooder was probably organizing a benefit for abused dinosaur mascots or something like that…" I muttered, still unable to stop myself.

"Actually, I was kind of helping this girl find the information desk."

"Girl?" a smug voice sounded. "Do I hear correctly? Could it be that Arnold has his eyes on someone? Is that romance I smell?" It figured. Rhonda was like a shark, only instead of blood in the water, it was the scent of gossip in the air that attracted her.

"I-it's not like that at all," Arnold protested. "She was just someone who needed help, and I was in a position to give it to her. There's really nothing more to it than that."

But even as he spoke, I could see it in that half-lidded gaze of his; he actually was smitten. I could see her now; a tall, blandly attractive brunette. Or a sickly-sweet redhead. Or maybe a shallow blonde bimbo. Those were his type. Not someone like me, a girl with nothing on the surface, but a deep, rich inner self that yearned to be discovered.

"So, there's no attraction there? None at all?" Rhonda probed.

"Well… I mean… she seemed pretty nice, and we talked a little, and we like some of the same things, but… I mean, I probably won't see her- oh, wait a minute, there she is now! Trudy! Hey, Trudy! Come over and meet my friends!"

Trudy?

Surely this was a coincidence?

Those hopes were dashed when a blonde in boyish clothes reacted to her name being called. She seemed reluctant to come over, but Arnold's singling her out had put her on the spot and she had little choice.

"Her? Really?" Rhonda said dismissively. "Well… no accounting for taste, I suppose…"

Ignoring her, Arnold waved her over. "So, this is the gang. That's Gerald, Sid, Phoebe, Stinky, Rhonda, Harold, Nadine, Iggy, Helga…"

"We've met," I said. "Though, clearly, she gets around."

"So, how did it go with the information desk?" Arnold asked.

"Oh, uh, well… they couldn't find my group. So, I figured I might as well ride some of the rides while I look for the, you know?" Oh, brother, was this girl a bad liar. The information desk would've made a missing person announcement, and I'd heard none in the last few minutes. Sure, there may have been a chance they'd made it while we were on the ride, but something about Trudy's general demeanor and delivery said there had been no announcement, and she'd probably never even talked to the desk in the first place.

"Well, you're outta luck if you wanna ride the Raptor. Been there, done that, moving on."

"Oh," She looked a bit guilty. "You missed the ride because of me, didn't you."

"It's fine. I'll get another chance someday. …hey, actually… why don't you and I ride it now? We can catch up with the rest of the group later. If that's okay with all of you guys…"

"Pssh… whatever, Arnoldo. No snot outta my nose if you wanna hang out with your new _girlfriend_."

"What?!" Trudy gasped.

"She's not my girlfriend!" Arnold protested.

"I'm NOT his girlfriend!" Trudy denied, even more vehemently.

"I don't even know her!" Arnold continued.

"We've just met!" echoed Trudy.

"And yet, l already sense _la chimie_ between you," gushed Rhonda in that irritatingly pretentious way of hers. Jeez, a moment ago, you thought she was unsuitable for him.

"Yeah," Sid agreed. "Hubba hubba."

"Arnold an' – what was your name again?" Harold asked.

"Trudy,"

"ARNOLD AND TRUDY, SITTING IN A TR- UH, ROLLER COASTER! K-I-S-S-I-N-G!" he brayed.

"Ugh, let's just get in line and get this over with…" Trudy groaned, dragging Arnold along.

"Whillickers," Stinky marveled. "What a whirlwind romance this is."

I wanted, desperately I wanted, to think that this was just my dimwit classmates overreacting, but I couldn't deny the way he blushed when she grabbed his arm. Yes, Football Head was smitten… with the kind of person I never thought possible.

"You guys go on without me," I said. "I need to use it."

I ran for the bathroom stalls, but instead of entering, I ducked behind them.

"Criminy!" I said to myself. "NOW he gets interested in plain-Jane tomboyish blondes? NOW he decides to look past surface beauty and fall for a tough-talking but probably very smart and sensitive diamond in the rough?"

I fished my locked out from under my dress. "And yet… I only have myself to blame, don't I. For it is not she who drove him away all these years, who tormented him mercilessly, who cruelly sabotaged his other attempts at finding someone… who, when finally able to admit the truth, immediately seized on the first opportunity to weasel out of it. Face it, Helga… You've blown it, time and time again. Is it any wonder that he'll never see you as anything more than a persistent thorn in his side?"

"…no, that's quitter talk! I didn't roll over for Ruth, I didn't roll over for Liiiiila, I didn't roll over for that beach bimbo, and I'm not gonna roll over for some ugly chick who stirs the do-gooder in him! I am Helga G. Pataki, damn it! And I am not gonna take this challenge lying down! For I know, deep down, that Arnold and I are destined to—"

I paused. Something was not right.

"…destined to…"

Another pause.

"Where the heck is he?"

Moments after my outbursts, I heard the sound of running footsteps accompanied by labored breathing.

"Uh… sorry," Brainy wheezed. "Stuck on the Ferris Wheel."

"Jeez, Brainy, did you run all the way over here? That can't be good for you."

"It's all right." He said, taking a puff on his inhaler. "Just… just give me a moment."

"It's too late. The moment's over." I shrugged. "We can try again tomorrow, I guess."

"…okay…" he croaked, clearly disappointed.

"Ah, what the heck, here's one for the road," I said, socking him.

"Uh, thanks," he responded, as he collapsed, but my mind had already moved on.

After all… I had a blossoming romance to sabotage.

* * *

**A.N.: Yep, it's the classic "Helga tries to ruin Arnold's da****te" plot, but with the added horribly awkward element of Arnold crushing on his own future daughter. If only he realized just **_**why**_** he's so oddly into this girl... but anyway, enough Back to the Future, next chapter we're going back…. to the future!**

**J.A.M.: Well, she did eventually confirm it…**

**Penguin Lord: Unfortunately I wrote this chapter before I saw "First Impressions", which revealed Cavendish and Dakota have known each other a lot longer than I thought. I'm gonna have to find some way to handwave it…**

**Jose: Well, if they weren't already having a really lousy day, it's about to get a lot worse for them because they're about to meet a very pissed-off Mama Helga.**

**Next Chapter: From Bad to Worse**


	4. Helga Hath Plenty of Fury

Chapter 4

Helga Hath Plenty of Fury

_The Future_

Helga Pataki, her youngest child, Robbie, in her arms, stood stiffly next to the man or woman (it was impossible to tell) in the giant foam T-Rex outfit, smile pasted on her face.

"Moommmmyyy," whined Robbie, "I wanna go on the wide now…"

"Just a little while longer, sweetie," Helga whispered. "How much longer?" she asked her husband through clenched teeth.

Arnold Shortman continued to fiddle with the vintage Minodak camera. "Not too long, just have to set the shutter to the right diameter.. adjust the lens…."

"Honestly, Arnold, I don't know why you had to use that… can you even call it an antique anymore? Maybe a relic? I think it might be verging on 'artifact' at this point."

"It was Grandpa's," he said. "When I use it, it kinda feels like he's here with us."

"Well, great. Now I feel bad. I don't like feeling bad."

"Sorry,"

"No, no… if it helps you remember him it's worth it. Even if nobody actually develops film anymore, so you had to build your own darkroom in the basement, and those chemicals _really_ smell…" She shook her head. "Sorry, sorry. Fair's fair. I have my writing room, you have your darkroom. Just venting… which you _should_ do with your darkroom…"

"Message received. I'll air it out this weekend."

"Good boy. I think I'll keep you." Helga smiled. Despite the occasional hiccup, she really did have the best husband. The best life, really. She wouldn't trade it for anything.

"Okay, everything's all set… say 'fuzzy pickles'!"

"Fuzzy Pickles!" the two photo models said as Rockin' Rex mugged beside them.

"Sorry about keeping you so long," Helga apologized to the mascot. "My husband kinda likes to do things the weird way. You know when we were kids, he used to use carrier pigeons instead of the phone or e-mail?" The mascot mimed exaggerated shock. "I know, right? Who does that?"

"So, now you're trashing me to your dinosaur friends?" Arnold asked in mock annoyance.

"He's very easy to talk to. Maybe Kate should invest in one of these suits." Years of friendship had put Helga on a first-name basis with her old therapist. "Ooh. Yes. I am totally getting her one for Christmas."

"I bet she'd love it."

"Oh, definitely. She could be… Psychiatry Possum, or Freudian Frog… You know what, I'll ask her next time I see her. I'd hate to get the wrong animal."

"Oh, yeah, that would be devastating." Arnold knew better than to try to steer Helga when she got on these strange tangents. They were simply her inner creativity expressing itself.

Her watch beeped. "That must be the girls checking in. It's a bit early…" She opened the screen. "Hi, Tr- Riva? Not that I'm disappointed I just wasn't exp-"

"_Ms. Pataki_?" The girl looked anxious. "_You have to get over here quick! Trudy's disappeared_!"

"You lost track of her? Okay, meet me at the information desk, and we'll have them make an-"

"_No, I mean, she literally disappeared! As in vanished in a flash of light!_"

Helga's eyes narrowed angrily, "Stay where you are. I'll be right there." She turned to Arnold. "Please keep Robbie safe, okay?"

"Honey, if there's anyway I can help you-"

"You are helping me. I already have one child in possible danger. I can't risk Robbie too." She gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "Have fun, keep him distracted. He doesn't need to worry about this like the rest of us."

Arnold returned the kiss. "Bring her home safe, Helga."

"I'm not coming back without her," she said. "And if there's someone responsible for this… well, they better hope they've got their funeral expenses set up."

* * *

_A bit earlier, in another section of the park_

Akiko stared, horrified, as her friend simply vanished in a flash of light, helpless to do anything about it.

When the initial shock subsided, her attention turned to the tall, distinguished-looking man in the steampunk gear who'd just dropped the mystery orb that had seemingly disintegrated her best friend.

"What did you just do?" she demanded.

"Now, young lady, I assure you I- DEAR LORD, WHAT IS THAT?" Akiko's head snapped around even as she cursed herself for falling for the oldest trick in the book. Sure enough, when she looked back the man had vanished, and his companion, the guy in the tracksuit, was hurrying after him.

"C'mon," Akiko told her two friends, "we're going after those guys."

"Wait," Courtney warned, grabbing her arm. "I'm upset too, but we have to think about this! There's three of us and this park's huge! How are we going to find two guys in all of this?

"Well, it's not like they were dressed to blend in," suggested Riva. "Especially Mr. Top Hat Jones there. We shouldn't have any problem-"

"_Attention Dino Land visitors," _announced the park speaker system. "_Today_, _Dino Land would like to welcome the Pacific Northwest Chapter of the Doctor Zone Fan Club._"

And it was then that the three girls noted that the park was absolutely flooded with people, many of whom were dressed exactly like the top hat guy.

"Oh, COME ON!" Akiko complained.

"Maybe at this point, it might be a good idea to call Ms. Pataki?" Courtney asked.

"As much as I hate being the voice of reason, I think that might be a good idea," agreed Riva. "Sometimes, you gotta know when to call the grownups."

"What we need is an aerial view," Akiko muttered, ignoring her two friends. "Courtney, do you have your costume bracelet?"

"Yeah, but I only wore it because it goes nicely with this top," the younger girl responded. "Besides, aren't we only supposed to use these in an emergency?"

"How is this _not_ an emergency?" Akiko countered. "Look, you can stay here and do nothing, but I'm going regardless!" She ran off looking for a private place to change forms and clothing.

"Maybe you'd better go with her," Riva advised. "You have a cooler head and… gah, I hate being the sane one."

* * *

In a secluded area behind the toilets, Akiko activated the small device on her wrist, which had been disguised as an ordinary-looking friendship bracelet. Instantly, the molecules of her clothing rearranged into a white uniform with black trim, boots, and gloves, a golden shield with a stylized letter "A" on her right breast (or where it would be once puberty struck), and a mirrored silver visor over her eyes. Once her clothing had been changed, Akiko activated a second change, releasing a subconscious hold on her body's cells. Her skin shifted from its usual medium-brown to a vivid indigo, her third eye opened behind the visor, a second set of arms filled the costume's empty lower sleeves, and batlike wings and a fur-tufted tail unfolded out the openings in the uniform's back.

"I suppose it's too late to talk you out of this, Akiko." Courtney said needlessly.

"Aegis," corrected Akiko. "Gotta keep those identities secret, y'know? And yeah, my mind's set."

"Then if I can't reason with you, I might as well join you." The younger girl initiated the same metamorphosis her elder had, and soon, a pale-green-skinned, blue-and-aqua-clad mutant preteen with a trident emblem on her chest stood next to Akiko.

"Glad to have you on board, Seafoam," Akiko said.

"Not really married to the name yet," Courtney responded.

"I don't know, I think it works. Now, let's get up there."

* * *

"Oh dear," Cavendish muttered to himself. "This is quite the sticky wicket I've gotten myself into. The BOTT will surely not tolerate a failure of this magnitude. Director Block will no doubt strip me of my commission. Why, I'll be lucky if I can obtain a position disposing of extraterrestrial rubbish after this! There's no way I can let that happen! I must go incognito… start a new life here in this era. Perhaps… I can find employment on… now, what do they call those establishments where food-plants are produced en masse… A fern? Yes. I shall be a ferner."

"You know we have to go back and help those kids out, right?" Dakota asked. Upon accidentally causing the blonde girl to disappear, Cavendish had made a mad dash for the park's exit, easily managing to lose the girl's three companions. Dakota had tracked him down here and was now trying to convince him to do the right thing. "Seeing as it's our fault her friend disappeared. Mostly your fault. Almost entirely your fault."

"I don't need you to remind me," Cavendish bit back. "Besides, aren't _you_ supposed to be the irresponsible one?"

"Yeah, but… we displaced a kid in time, Cavendish. That's not something you can just walk away from."

"I'll have you know I fully intend to help that child… eventually… once I've had some time to think about it…"

"Cavendish, you know I'm your guy, like, always your guy, but I gotta put my foot down here. If you're not gonna call the home office on this thing, I am.'

"Now, perhaps we should not be so hasty. I'm certain given time we can arrive at a reasonable solution."

"Hey, hey… I know you're all about your reputation but sometimes we gotta bite the bullet and admit we don't know what we're doing. Sure, we'll get in a bit of trouble, but the lab guys back home'll probably be able to figure out how this thing works better than us."

"I am not about to admit defeat, Vinc- I say, do you hear a large bat?"

"Cavendish, first of all, there's no giant bats, and second, it's the middle of the day, even if there were giant bats, they wouldn't be out right now. You really need to brush up on how animals wor-"

It was at that point that Akiko landed in front of them.

She'd intended to land dramatically, crouching on one knee, wings outspread majestically behind her like she'd seen her mom doing in old news footage.

That was not what happened. Instead, she belly-flopped. Quite un-majestically.

She lay there in utter humiliation for a moment. Next to her, Courtney fluttered downward, landing a bit more gracefully. "Finally, those ballet classes are paying off," she commented.

"Ugh," groaned Akiko. "Did that look as embarrassing as it felt?" she questioned.

"I'm sure our moms didn't master the dramatic entrance right away either," assured Courtney sympathetically, helping her new friend up.

"Good heavens," Cavendish exclaimed. "What manner of creatures are those?"

"What mann- Cavendish, do you have any idea who that is? That's Aegis! Half of the most famous superhero couple of all time! And the other one's Maelstrom, the future leader of Global Justice!"

"Well, pardon me for not being up on my celebrity gossip."

"Celebrity- these girls have saved hundreds of thousands of people? You don't keep track of any of that?"

"We, um… haven't done any of that yet," Courtney remarked. "Also, my name's Seafoam…. although Maelstrom sounds _much_ cooler…" she mused.

"None of this is important!" interrupted Akiko. "All I know is Captain Steampunk here made my friend disappear and he'd better get her back or I'll…" She paused. Or I'd what? _How did mom handle this kind of thing?_

"Miss… er… Aegis, was it?" Cavendish stammered a reply. "If you would kindly allow me to explain-"

"The time for explanations has passed!" Akiko snapped.

"Uh… no. It hasn't," interrupted Courtney, putting a calming hand on her shoulder. "It's actually right now. Right now is _very_ good for explanations."

Akiko sighed. "I know, it just… seemed like that kind of thing I was supposed to say." She shook her head. "I'm new at this. Fine… explain…"

"All right, er… well, my companion and I are time travelers from the late 22nd century, in the employ of the Bureau of Time Travel. We have been sent to this era on an extremely important mission-"

"In an amusement park?" questioned Courtney.

"Rest assured it's all hush-hush top-secret stuff. In any case, your friend encountered an untested piece of top-secret time-travel technology that my irresponsible partner unnecessarily brought along."

"Hi. Don't mind me," Dakota remarked sarcastically. "I'll just hang back here, under this bus. The one you just threw me under."

"In any case, what has likely happened is that your friend is most likely unharmed… she's simply been transported to another time."

"Well, then… get her back!"

"I wish it were that easy. The truth is… I have no idea how this device works."

"How do you not know?" Courtney cut in, her inclination to be the voice of reason rapidly diminishing. "You're time travelers from the future! You're supposed to know this kind of stuff!"

"Ah, yes, but, er, well, this particular piece was an acquisition from a mysterious stranger and we have not had the liberty to study it. So, if you will excuse us-"

"Uh-uh!" Akiko preempted, throwing up a shimmering golden wall of energy blocking off the outlet to the alley. "Nobody goes anywhere!"

"Well, that is hardly a reasonable attitude," Cavendish protested. "How on Earth are we to access our time travel vehicle if you restrict our movements thusly? Also, HOW ON EARTH DID YOU DO THAT?"

"That's her power. Force fields," Dakota explained. "You really oughtta keep track of this kind of stuff."

"Honestly, young lady… our best hope of resolving this situation is…"

"…yes?" Dakota prompted smugly.

Cavendish sighed. It galled him to admit that, this time, Dakota was absolutely right. "…contacting our superiors at the Bureau of Time Travel and confessing our mistake in the hopes they can help."

"And what keeps you from ditching us the second I drop the wall?" asked Akiko skeptically.

"The two of you shall accompany us. Though I am unfamiliar with your abilities, I suspect you could easily outmaneuver any attempt of ours to escape."

"Yeah, we probably could…" agreed Akiko. In truth, she was a pretty clumsy flyer compared to Trudy and Courtney, but she wasn't about to admit that. "All right, but you'd better not try anything funny."

"Maybe we should check in with Trudy's mom before we make any agreements?" suggested Courtney.

"I don't really see the need to get her involved just yet," Akiko said, dropping her force field. "Okay, you two, take us to your time machine. And no funny business."

"Yes, right. Ah…" They exited the alley and glanced across the street at the parking lot. "Er… by any chance do you remember where we parked?"

* * *

The four picked their way through the Dino Land parking lot, the two mutant preteens keeping a wary eye on the time travelers.

"I think we're close," Dakota said. "See? There's that hippie van we passed. Remember? The one with that awesome painting of a unicorn riding a dragon in front of a psychedelic rainbow backdrop on the side?"

"Now I know what I'm asking my moms for on my sixteenth birthday," remarked Courtney admiringly.

"Focus," Balthazar admonished.

"I am focused. Just… in a generalized sort of way," answered Dakota. "Oh, hey, this is the Dimetrodon lot! That's the one I remember we were in! So, we should be over… there!"

"_That's_ your time machine? An old car?" asked Akiko incredulously.

"It only _appears_ to be an old car," Cavendish responded, "so that it remains inconspicuous."

"Actually, it _is_ an old car," confirmed Dakota. "It's the only one they'd let us have."

"…yes, well, I'm certain once we start actually succeeding in our missions, they'll let us have something more fitting."

"I think it has character," Dakota commented.

"Character does not contribute to mission goals," stated Cavendish.

"I really don't care whether it has character or not," Akiko interrupted, growing annoyed at their bickering. "You get in contact with your boss now or I'm gonna give you a fender bender with my fists."

"I still think we should've called Trudy's mom…" Courtney suggested.

"I keep telling you, if we need her, we'll call. But right now, I think we can handle this without bothering Ms. Pataki."

"What aren't you bothering me about?"

The gathered mutant tweens and time travelers turned to see Helga Pataki standing behind them, arms crossed and face sporting her best "now you're gonna get it" expression.

"Okay, I gotta say," began Dakota, "those two girls could probably break us in half without even putting any effort into it, but that woman over there? _She_ is seriously scaring me."

"Ms. P-pataki?" stammered Akiko. "How did you find us?"

"Riva called me," she said. "At least _one_ of you was thinking."

Akiko looked down at her feet, rubbing her upper-left arm self-consciously, unable to meet Helga's disapproving gaze. "I just thought I could handle this on my own. Don't blame C-" Akiko interrupted herself, remembering costume rules: never use your real name when your costume's on, even to someone you knew. "-Seafoam… she's actually been trying to keep me _out_ of trouble."

Helga's expression softened a bit, though remaining stern. "Call me first next time, Aegis. I know you need to feel like you're in charge of your life, but you're not ready to deal with this sort of thing on your own yet. You will be someday, but not today." Her gaze turned. "Now, as for you two… I would very much like to know what happened to my daughter."

"…_your_… daughter…" realized Dakota, putting things together. "Oh, this is bad."

"Madame, we were just about to inquire about that,"

"Cavendish!" Dakota interrupted. "I know you're not up on 'celebrity gossip', but do you have any idea who that is? That's Helga 'Temper' Pataki, which means that if her daughter's the one we lost…"

"Excuse me," Helga interrupted, eyes narrowing. "_What_ did you just call me?"

"It's okay, we're from the future," Dakota explained.

"Dakota, you imbecile, you broke our cover!" spat Cavendish.

"Yeah, we kinda went way past that the second we sent a superpowered kid to another time."

"You did WHAT?" Helga snapped incredulously.

"I admit that the situation is unorthodox, but that is no excuse for breaking BOTT proto-"

His response was cut off by the enraged blonde grabbing him by the collar.

"Now, you listen to me and listen good, bucko," she snarled, pulling his face within an inch of hers. "You are going to tell me exactly what you did to my baby, and you are going to tell me exactly what you and Disco Dan here plan to do to bring her back. Or I am going to introduce you to a couple of friends of mine named Old Betsy and the Five Avengers. And that's if I'm feeling generous."

"…and… if you're not?" asked Cavendish meekly.

"Then they bring their younger sisters Punchy McPunchface and The Enforcer. And those two can _really_ leave a mark."

"Those are her fists," informed Dakota. "I read this interview with her and she said that's what she called them. The second two are the extra ones she grows in her super-powered form."

"Er, yes, I… I surmised as much," admitted Cavendish sheepishly. "Very well… this may take a while to explain…"

* * *

"…and, well… we can't figure out how to activate recall on the device, so we are unable to bring her back at this time. I was just about to contact my superiors at the Bureau of Time Travel when you arrived."

Helga mulled his explanation. She really, _really_ wanted to hit the guy, but the more reasonable voice in her head, the one that sounded like Arnold, advised her to hold back.

Instead she said, "Well, then. Go on and contact them."

"Well, I can't _now_… Bureau protocols expressly forbid-"

"Do I _look_ like I care about what the bureau protocols say?"

"Cavendish, you were about to make the call with a couple of nine-year-olds watching."

"I'm _ten_," huffed Akiko petulantly.

"*sigh* Very well… just don't come crying to me about the official reprimand on our records…" He activated the comm unit on the dashboard. A gruff-looking middle-aged man appeared on the screen.

"Oh… it's _you_," the man grumbled. Clearly, he was familiar with these two, and not in a good way, Helga thought. His demeanor caused her mind to immediately conjure an image of her father at his grumpiest.

"Er, sorry to bother you, Director Block," began Cavendish obsequiously, "but it seems we've run into a bit of a pickle on our mission."

"Your mission isn't to save the _pickle_ from extinction, Cavendish," interrupted Block. "Frankly, I don't even like pickles. They give me acid reflux. What I do like are pistachios, and seeing as I don't have any on my desk right now, you clearly have not accomplished your mission, so you'd better not be wasting my time."

"Yes, about that-"

"THAT was your mission?" cut in Courtney, barely holding back laughter. "Saving the pistachio? THAT'S the important top-secret time-travel business that brought you here?"

"What?" Block questioned. "Is someone listening in on your conversation? Did you two dimwits blow your cover?"

"…as I was saying, unfortunately, our activities in this time period have led to a young girl being displaced in time, so if we could have your assistance-"

"YOU DID WHAT?" bellowed the director. "I knew you were incompetent, but I didn't know you were _this_ incompetent! Go fix it, and don't come back to me until you-"

"HEY!" Helga poked her head into view. "MY daughter's the one they lost, they need YOUR help to find her, and if you don't give it to them, I swear to whatever dark forces are listening that I will make you give it to them, and I don't care if I have to freeze myself for a century to get to you, I _will_ do it."

Block's face paled upon seeing the speaker. "Is… is that who I think it is?"

"That's her, yeah," Dakota said. "She's actually really nice if you don't get on her bad side."

"…which means that her daughter is… oh dear." He shook his head. "All right. You two are recalled to 2175 for now-"

"Us _three_." Helga insisted. "You're not leaving me out of this."

"Fine, as long as you don't touch anything," relented Block. "Once there, we'll try to locate your daughter and retrieve her."

"Oooh, can I say it?" Dakota asked.

"Please don't," a weary Cavendish pleaded.

Ignoring him, Dakota struck a dramatic pose. "We're going back… to the future!"

The other four stared at him.

"What? It's a classic."

* * *

**A. N.: Like Dakota, I couldn't resist. Anyway, next chapter we'll shift back to Trudy and see how she's faring with one parent unknowingly crushing on her and the other trying to sabotage her. And things might get even worse…**

**If you're wondering about what the deal is with Helga and the kids, Helga's original transformation is chronicled in my earlier story **_**Body Issues**_**, and the story continues in its quasi-sequel **_**And You May Ask Yourself, **_**which introduces Trudy, Riva (Harold and Patty's daughter) and Akiko (Gerald and Phoebe's daughter). Courtney (Rhonda (biologically) and Nadine's daughter) gets a mention in that story, but this one is her debut.**

**J.A.M.: She was on the spot and we all have lapses in judgement.**

**Jose: I see Helga and Brainy's relationship as similar to Sam Sheepdog and Ralph Wolf's :). They're well aware of their roles but Helga feels no real animosity towards him.**

**Penguin Lord: Like Vinnie said, it's a classic. I can't help but give it a nod.**

**Next: "This is Heavy". See? I can't stop.**


	5. This is Heavy

Chapter 5

This is Heavy

_In the shadow of the Raptor_

_-HELGA-_

And so, once again, here I was, lurking in the shadows, stalking the boy I love and the latest floozy he had his wandering eye on.

Granted, this one seemed to have more on the ball than the last few, and she wasn't exactly a looker, and maybe I should take this as a sign that maybe he has an eye for girls of more substance now, but darn it, it's the principle of the thing! _I_ should be the average-looking but emotionally-deep girl he should be falling for! It's fate! Kismet! Our souls are inexorably linked by the red string of destiny! Surely if I can see it, so can he! Sure he hasn't in 7 years, but he can't deny destiny forever, right?

I peered through my binoculars (Of course I brought my binoculars! I always bring my binoculars! Can't stalk someone without binoculars, can you?), to determine my quarry's position. It looked like he was still stuck in the line for the Raptor. Right next to her.

I couldn't hear what the two were talking about. It looked like she was trying to avoid eye contact with him. Probably playing it coy, the little minx. The ol' Lila maneuver, pretending she didn't "like him like him." Crafty. But not crafty enough for me.

I dialed Phoebe. "Mighty Falcon to Grub Worm."

"_Some day, we're going to have to have a talk about changing my code name." _Phoebe answered.

"Never mind that. What's the status of the group?"

"_We're waiting for Harold. The Whipcrack upset his tummy. How about you?_"

"I have eyes on Ice Cream and Steamed Cabbage."

"_Why Steamed Cabbage?_"

"Because it doesn't go with ice cream! They're about to get on the ride, which takes about four and a half minutes, at which time I'll resume shadowing them and see where they go. Depending on what they do, I'll have to improvise ways of sabotaging their good time."

"_Uh… forgive me for saying this, but I've started to notice a pattern with these schemes of yours._"

"Oh, really. What pattern?"

"_They, ah, tend to backfire. Spectacularly_."

"So maybe I've messed up a few times. I just need to be more careful, that's all. Keep it simple. No more sabotaging rides. Too much can go wrong. All I really need to do… is get in the way. That's it! Phoebe… Operation Third Wheel is a go, repeat Operation Third Wheel is a go."

"_Operation Third Wheel? Are you sure? That will require you to spend a lot of time in Ice Cream's vicinity. There's quite the risk you'll let your guard drop and say the wrong thing_."

"Relax, Pheebs, it's no big deal. All I gotta do is stick to those two like old bubble gum on the underside of a cafeteria table and continually ruin the mood. I've kept the masquerade up this long, I can handle a few hours of direct interaction. But if I feel like I'm on the verge of losing it, I'll have you tag in okay? The code word will be 'bandersnatch'."

"_All right, Helga… ready to tag in when you need me to_."

"Thanks. And… I know I don't say this often enough, but… you do know how much I appreciate you, right?"

"_Yes, but… it is nice to hear it once in a while_."

* * *

_-TRUDY-_

When you've soared through the air above Hillwood at 89MPH under your own wingpower, a trip around a fixed circuit on rails should be boring.

Fortunately, I'm not that jaded yet. I mean, sure, in my natural form I'm ridiculously strong, can shrug off the kind of punishment that would put a regular kid in the hospital, and fire a laserbeam from my fingertip, but the simple joys of being a kid still hold plenty of appeal. Ice cream on a hot summer day, baseball in Gerald Park, and of course, the perfect roller coaster ride.

The ride itself had passed in a blur of frenetic motion and surging adrenaline, seemingly in an instant and yet also seemingly an eternity, until at last it ended as the coaster cars returned to their starting point, disgorging two dozen dizzy, yet exhilarated, riders, among them myself and Arnold Shortman, the boy who would, in a decade and a half, become my father.

Yeah, this here is a very messed up situation. Frankly, I shouldn't be anywhere near him. Unless I have to be near him, in which case I shouldn't be anywhere not near him, unless – you see how confusing this is? I hate time travel. It makes you second-guess everything you do.

"Whoa, that was awesome!" Arnold remarked, staggering off the ride. "Let's go ag-" He paused, trying to keep himself from toppling over.

"Steady there, da- dude…" Gotta watch that. "The line's gotten a lot longer. If we get stuck waiting, we won't have any time to do anything else."

"So… I guess you wanna keep hanging out with me, then?" he said. Ugh, damn it, I shouldn't've said "we". But then again… I'm stuck 25 years in my own past, with no way I can think of to get back to my own time. What am I gonna do, hide in the sewers 'til I'm 35, on the off-chance I might affect something? What if hiding in the sewers is what I'm supposed to not do? I might as well just keep doing what I'm doing. Besides… this is kind of a great opportunity. I get to see what my parents were like as kids.

"Sure," I said. "Not like I have anything better to do 'til I find my friends… if they haven't ditched me."

"Why would they ditch you?"

"I kinda had a fight with them right before I got split up. Honestly… they kinda suck." Sorry, girls. Don't mean to trash you, but I have to come up with a plausible reason why I'm not looking for you that hard and "they won't be here for a quarter-century" just isn't gonna cut it. "You and your friends seem pretty cool to hang out with."

"Yeah. I mean, some of them have their quirks that you have to get used to… some more than others…"

"There you are, Football-Head! Let's get a move on, we're burnin' daylight fast!"

"Speak of the devil," muttered Arnold.

As if it wasn't awkward enough dealing with being around my dad, now my mom, Helga Pataki, had reentered the picture. And from the stories the two have told me, at this point in time, they weren't exactly the best of friends… or even civil most of the time.

"Oh, hey, Trudy's still here. I guess you haven't found your friends yet. Well, hey, I guess you can hang out with the rest of us 'til you do, right? That is, if Hair Boy here doesn't wanna hog you all to himself."

"It's fine, Helga. I already asked her to join us. Since when do you care, anyway?" he said, a bit resentfully.

"What, I can't be a friendly, outgoing person? I'm not some snarling bone-crunching ogre, Shrimpman. I can be personable when I feel like it. So, hey, why don't you and me start over?" She held out her hand to me. "Helga Pataki, PS118."

"Trudy Schwartzman, PS121," I answered, pumping it. It was so weird, "introducing" myself to the woman who'd birthed me. All of this was an endless cavalcade of weird. But I'd committed myself to just going with the flow at this point, since otherwise, the second-guessing of my every action would drive me mad.

"Well, now that the pleasantries are out of the way, how about we get a move on and catch up with the rest of the gang? C'mon! Let's move along! Chop chop!" she said, prodding us.

"Jeez, where's the fire," Arnold pushed back.

"Right here, Paste-for-Brains. It's what you're playing with if you try to give me any lip."

"C'mon," I said. "She's right, we don't wanna fall behind." For some reason, I felt compelled to play peacemaker between the two. Sure they're not an item yet, but they would be very soon. Maybe that was my purpose here. To ease the tensions between the two of them and pave the way for them to get together.

"Yeah, all right," relented dad.

"Great!" mom said, inserting herself between us. "Let's get going!"

* * *

_-ARNOLD-_

Ugggh…. Helga.

It's like everything she does is designed to make my life more difficult in some way. And the most annoying part is that, I know somewhere beneath that mean, obnoxious, pushy exterior there's a good person that shows itself every once in a while. But then I keep being reminded that outside that good person there's a mean, obnoxious, pushy exterior that I have to put up with on a daily basis, and I really don't know if it's worth it.

Now, here she is, shoving herself in between myself and Trudy as if she knew something was going on between us, probably for no other reason than to ruin my good time. I mean, what other reason would she have? It's not like she gets any joy out of spending any time around me, she's certainly made that clear enough on multiple occasions. What I ever did to offend her, I'll never know.

In any case, for someone who was in such a big hurry to get us back to the group, Helga was taking us on a meandering route. And her tendency to insist stopping at various attractions wasn't exactly helping.

First, she made us go on the Bumper Boulders, most likely so she could take pleasure in ramming my car over and over again, then on the Mesozoic Falls, insisting it was getting too hot and that we needed to cool off. All throughout the time in between, she was monopolizing the conversation with Trudy, constantly asking her questions about virtually anything she could think of, as if she was trying to make sure I couldn't get in a word edgewise. To make matters worse… somehow, it seemed like the two were actually getting along. Right now, they were animatedly discussing their favorite wrestling moves. Wrestling wasn't something I followed at all, so it was all Greek to me.

"So, watcha think of my Reverse Negative Quarter Nelson, Mystery Girl?" Helga said, grinning broadly, holding Trudy in a tight headlock. "They say it's supposed to be impossible to get out of this one."

Yes, the more I looked at, while at the start it seemed like Helga was just butting in to get on my nerves, the more time the two spent together, it was clear the two had a great deal in common, and that Helga was genuinely enjoying the new girl's company.

"Watch and learn, Helga," Trudy replied, twisting in just such a way that Helga was forced to release her.

"Criminy, Trudy," Helga said, impressed. "How the wide world of sports did you pull that off?"

"Oh, it's actually pretty easy once you know the trick. Here, let me show you." She took up a position behind Helga and duplicated the headlock she'd been put in a moment ago. Just the fact that Helga trusted this girl enough to let her do this to her suggested that there was some kind of crazy bond forming here. "Okay, it's nice and tight, right? Now, what you do is twist like so…"

It was like a nightmare. I might as well have not even been there the way those two were bonding. I was rapidly losing any opportunity I had to get close to this girl, and it was all Helga's fault. I had to find some way to get Trudy's attention again.

We were passing through the midway, where games of skill taunted the passerby with the prospect of winning massive stuffed creatures of various species, should they fulfill the (very likely unethically skewed) task demanded of them. I noticed that Trudy's eye was caught by one particular stand, where the objective was to knock down a stack of bottles with a baseball (painted like a boulder In keeping with Dino Land's theme).

"Rockin' Rex," she commented. "I used to have one of those when I was five, but then I lost it on a family vacation. Somewhere at the bottom of the Grand Canyon, there's a moldy stuffed Tyranosaurus with a plastic guitar."

This was my opportunity! "Maybe I could win you a new one?" I offered.

"Pfft. Not likely, Football Head. These games are all rigged twelve ways to Sunday. You've got a better chance of going fishing in City Lake and landing a humpback whale!"

"It can't be that hard, Helga," I rejoined. "These aren't like those shady games you find in some cheap carnival. I'm pretty sure a place like Dino Land has to run things above board, or else they could get in trouble with the government."

"Oh, Arnold, Arnold, Arnold… ever the cockeyed optimist," remarked Helga derisively. "So certain that this is the best of all possible worlds. But this ain't _Candide_, yutz. Face it… reality doesn't live up to your ideals."

…is… Helga quoting Voltaire? I mean, I knew, deep down, that she's smart, like, ridiculously smart, but I had no idea she was this well-read. For a fifth-grader to have even heard of _Candide_, let alone be able to reference it, was unheard of.

I shook off the sudden wave of admiration I was feeling. Insightful or not, Helga was stepping on my potential romance, and she had to be shown up. "Just you watch. I'm gonna win Trudy a Rockin' Rex fair and square." I slapped down a dollar bill on the counter. "Give me a ball."

"Good luck, kid," the attendant said, handing over a ball. I took aim and hurled the ball but it was off by several inches. I forked over another bill, and tried again, this time falling short of the stack by an inch.

"I'd say you throw like a girl, Football Head," jeered Helga, "but I throw way better than that."

"I'm just getting started, Helga," I shot back, handing over another dollar.

Twelve bucks later, I had come no closer to winning. The best I'd managed to do was barely grazing the top bottle on my final try, which prompted Helga to make a "sad trombone" noise.

"At least you're enjoying this," I grumbled, cheeks burning in humiliation. Memories of last years Cheese Festival, when I'd failed just as spectacularly to win a prize for Lila (although I was sure I'd hit the bottles dead-on at least once) drifted to mind.

"Not really," Helga smirked. "It's kinda like watching one of those slow-motion car wrecks, only with your ego smashing into reality."

"All right, my turn," Trudy cut in, handing over a bill of her own.

"Just one more try," I pleaded, rummaging in my pockets for another bill.

"No, offense, Arnold, but Helga's right. This is getting kinda sad."

"You know, I'm starting to this this booth really is rig-" My comment was cut off as Trudy's pitch hit the pile of bottles dead center, knocking them all down decisively.

"WE HAVE A WINNAH!" declared the attendant as he handed over one of the large Rockin' Rex plushes to Trudy.

"Whoa," Helga remarked admiringly. "That is one heck of an arm you have there. You ever thought about playing baseball?"

"Actually, I pitch for my school's team. I'm no Nikki Kaline yet, but my record's pretty good."

"But… Mickey Kaline doesn't pitch," I interrupted.

"Oh, uh…" she paused, looking embarrassed for a moment, "I was just using him as an example of a great baseball player. Of course I know he isn't a pitcher. Anyway, here," she said, offering the plush.

"Wha? Why are you giving it to me?" I asked. "I was trying to win that for you!"

"Yeah, I know, so since I'm the one who won it, I figured I'd return the favor."

"B-but… you can't… I can't…"

"What's the matter, Arnoldo?" Helga interrupted with a smirk, clearly enjoying my discomfort. "Think you're too manly to let a girl win _you_ a prize? Get with the 21st century, bucko!"

"But I… I'm not… all right, fine…" I grudgingly accepted the plush, already dreading the ruinion with the group. We were all supposed to meet at the Food Cave for lunch, and when Helga told everyone what happened – and there was no chance she wouldn't – the guys were never gonna let me live it down.

How could things possibly get worse?

* * *

_MEANWHILE_

_Bartlett County Federal Prison, just outside Hillwood_

The prisoner approached the release desk. Quietly, the clerk in charge handed over a tray containing his personal effects. He collected the items, then, with a smirk, pocketed them and strolled to the guard.

The guard regarded him with a sour look. He should have had a far longer sentence given the crimes he'd been involved in, but his lawyer had managed to spring him on a technicality.

"You're free to go, Mr. Vermicelli," the guard said begrudgingly. "I hope we won't be seeing you in here again anytime soon."

"Oh, you don't have to worry about that, pally," Nick Vermicelli replied smugly, strolling past him. _I plan to be much, much more careful in the future, _he silently added. Plans were already in motion in his brain.

Step one: Get his car back from the impound lot.

Step two: Find that football-headed kid, his friend with the crazy tall hair, and his ex-partner Bob Pataki's ugly daughter with the one eyebrow. It was their fault he'd been locked up, after all.

And step three: Make sure those little snots got what was coming to them.

* * *

**A.N.: Nick Vermicelli! He started out as just Big Bob's kinda-sleazy sidekick early on before his full heel turn in the Neighborhood Movie, but I really don't see this guy get a lot of attention in ficdom as compared to Scheck. But he's probably just as eager for payback as Scheck usually is, so I figured I'd have him take up the villain role in this story.**

**J.A.M.: Rhia (Rhonda's kid sister and the Pataki-Shortman kids' babysitter)'s supposed to be educating Trudy on classic movies but she clearly hasn't gotten to this one yet. She's slackin' on the job.**

**Jose: Yep, predestination paradoxes all around, a couple taking shape in this very chapter.**

**Penguin Lord: I never said who Akiko winds up married to. Could be anyone with powers, or maybe even a Batman-type. It is a mystery.**

**Cre8tively: Yep, I'm having fun with this one.**

**Next: We go even farther into the future with Helga, Cavendish and Dakota as they try to find out how to get Trudy back, in "The Problem with Time Travel".**


	6. The Trouble with Time Travel

Chapter 6

The Trouble with Time Travel

_Somewhere between 2041 and 2175_

Helga Pataki had done a lot of things in her 36 years on the planet. She'd been to multiple countries, the occasional parallel timeline, and even spent a stint in space. And, naturally, like any other superhero worth their salt, she'd traveled through time at one point.

It hadn't been like this, however. She hadn't been seated in the back of a mid-70s convertible making its way through a strange rainbow dimension full of old clocks.

"So… this is what time looks like on the inside, huh?" she asked of her hosts for the journey. "I guess the old comic books were right.

"I suppose you could put it that way," the older of the two, Balthazar Cavendish, an older-looking gentleman in steampunk-style clothing, answered. "It's actually more of a conceptual realm, and what you're seeing is what sense your senses can make of it."

"Then the clocks are my brain creating some kind of visual metaphor for the flow of time?" Helga asked. "I guess that does make a sort of sense."

"No, the clocks are just clocks. Do be careful not to let one hit you in the head. They could leave a rather nasty bruise."

"So the dimension isn't real… but the clocks are…" Helga shook her head. "This kind of thing is why I hate time travel."

"It's best not to think about it," Vinnie Dakota, a tanned, curly-haired man in a tracksuit and sunglasses, remarked. "I try not to and it works for me."

"So what's the deal with you guys, anyway?" asked Helga.

"Er, why… what have you heard?" Cavendish asked, a bit shifty-eyed. "Because I assure you our relationship is purely professional…"

"Criminy. I'm not talking about _that. _I mean, if you guys were an item, there's nothing wrong with it, but I just meant how long have you been working together?"

"Not too long. He and I were assigned together fresh out of the academy," Dakota answered.

"Wait… you guys graduated together?"

"Not together. Me. Dakota was a couple of years behind me. I spent some time at a desk job before decided to transfer to field work." Informed Cavendish. "We've worked together ever since, though, frankly, his continual disregard for Bureau protocol has been a persistent source of irritation…"

"But you look so much… um… no offense… older than him."

"Yes, well, that was the result of a time anomaly the two of us encountered on an early mission to the Stone Age."

"That's what he tells everybody," Dakota cut in, "but the truth is that he got age-o-plasty so he could look more distinguished."

"Dakota," hissed Cavendish, "that was _supposed_ to remain in confidence."

"Who would she even tell? 'Hey, Gladys, this guy who won't be born for decades got a surgical procedure that won't exist for decades!' 'Oh my, Helga, what a scandalous development that I don't care about because I have no idea who or what you're talking about!' You have nothing to worry about."

"I don't even know a Gladys," Helga replied. "I don't think anyone knows a Gladys."

"I'm not sure why you're so talkative in any case, Ms. Pataki, given the current situation…"

"I'm just bored. It feels like we've been sitting in this car for an eternity, which we very well might have been, seeing as we're outside time… or inside it… or however the hell it works. I'm making conversation to keep from going crazy. How long until we're there?"

"We should be arriving just about… now."

The technicolor blur around the car gave way to the skyline of 2175 Danville, as Cavendish brought the timecar down to hoverstreet-level. "I would like to request that you remain in your current form, Miss Pataki. It would be imprudent to attract more attention from the populace than necessary."

"Believe me, all I want to do is get in, get my daughter, and go back home. I'm not looking to do any autograph signings here."

"Is one okay?" asked Dakota. "'Cause I've got a Monster Princess plush toy that you could sign."

"Honesty, Dakota, sometimes I'm convinced you never made it out of grade school."

"_Monster Princess_ is still in print?" Helga asked.

"Oh, yeah. And the movies are still pretty popular. You're like, one of the most beloved childrens' authors of all time."

Helga took that in. _Monster Princess_ had just been a side project of hers, just a story she'd felt needed telling. The Cecile Hart mysteries were supposed to be the real money-maker (not that they weren't popular; in fact, the first book in the series had bought the Pataki-Shortmans a house). She'd never expected her tale of a cursed princess and her quest for love and fulfillment to catch on the way it did, but here she was, a Newberry Medal and a movie deal later. And apparently that wasn't going to be the end of it.

Cavendish rubbed his temple in irritation. "This is the kind of thing I've been talking about, Mr. Dakota. You should not be telling Ms Pataki about her future."

"Hey, it's not like I'm telling her about anything surprising. I told her that her insanely successful book is insanely successful. Big whoop."

"I didn't know there'd be more than one movie… although… I have had some ideas for a sequel…"

"Just _try_ to be more careful…"

* * *

He carefully landed the time car in the parking lot of what Helga could only assume was the Bureau of Time Travel's headquarters, and ushered the group in. "We should make haste for Mr. Block's office as swiftly as possible without attracting any-"

"Hey, Paula!" Dakota interrupted, waving to the receptionist. "Long _time_, no see… get it? 'Cause we're time travelers?"

Paula chuckled indulgently. "Gets funnier every time, Vinnie. Who's your friend there?"

"Er, no one important, just part of some minor-" Cavenendish attempted to deflect Paula's attention, but Helga interrupted, offering her hand.

"Hi. Eleanor Roosevelt. Pleased to meet you."

"Really? You don't really look a thing like the history books say you do…"

"Yeah, I get that a lot. The camera adds twenty pounds and makes your hair and face and body look completely different, you know how it is."

"Oh, yes, well… it was a pleasure to meet you. Mrs. Roosevelt…"

"Likewise. Catch you later, Paula."

"Right, well, we have an appointment with Director Block, so we'd best be moving on."

"All right, I'll just let him know you're here…" She activated the comm. "Mr. Block, Agents Cavendish and Dakota and Mrs. Roosevelt have arrived…"

"_Who? Ah, never mind, just send those idiots up here_."

"Will do, Mr.-" The man cut him off. "Yeesh." she said. "I don't know how you two manage to irritate him so much, but I hope you keep it up. That man is a _colossal_ jerk."

"Mmm, yes, well, we should be going."

Helga was meanwhile taking in her surroundings. "So this is the future, huh. Somehow, I thought there'd be a lot more chrome."

* * *

Mr. Block's office was located on the top floor of the facility. By the time the trio arrived, the director was just about ready to boil over.

"SIT. DOWN." The director snapped.

"Er… there don't appear to be any chairs in here," noted Cavendish.

"Chairs are for competent people, Cavendish. Now sit down."

"Er… yes sir," Cavendish replied, meekly joining Dakota on the floor, legs crisscrossed.

"Now, how about we get started with reason 1 why I'm about to fire you."

"Hey, I'm sure you're itching to read these bozos the riot act," Helga interrupted. "But they're kind of essential to me getting my daughter back, so why don't you back off."

Block, not used to someone talking back to him, shut up.

"Good. Now, how about you get these two some chairs and then instead of listening to you rant at these guys, we get started on actually accomplishing something. You dig?

Block met her stare for a moment. Two wills met…. and one buckled like a Pilgrim's hat. As Block's gaze turned away, Helga smiled in satisfaction. _Still got it, _she thought.

"Good, I'm glad we understand each other now," she said.

* * *

An understanding now reached, Block decided the meeting would be better off moved to a properly-equipped conference room. There, Cavendish and Dakota proceeded to explain the situation in detail, finally offering the inert time device to Block, who studied the object carefully.

"Mmmm…. Yeah, I seen this before. Timey-Wimey Ball. It's a one-use time-displacement device. It instantly transports one person in time, then shuts down.

"One-use?" Helga said, panic beginning to rise. "You mean you can't use it again to bring her back? Couldn't you just… I don't know, recharge it or whatever?"

"I wish you could, but it ain't that easy, lady," Block answered, showing a rare bit of sympathy. "These suckers were built by an ancient alien race. We can't just modify 'em, even with the tech we have now."

"So, you're saying we can't do anything," Helga said dejectedly, slumping in her seat.

"Now, hold on, I never said that," Block replied. "We can't use that device to bring your girl back. but our lab techs should be able to get a reading off it and figure out exactly where your daughter was sent. From there, we should be able to use our own time-travel technology to retrieve her. All right?"

"Oh, thank god," Helga said, relieved. "How soon can we do that?"

"It might take a while to set things up properly. In the meantime, try not to go anywhere or do anything. We can't have you learning about your own future."

"Couldn't I learn like, one or two things? Like who wins next year's world series?"

"Especially not that!"

"Jeez, just asking. Sitting in this room is going to be excruciating. Could you at least send up some food? You guys do still eat food, right? It's not all pills or dermal nutrition patches or crap like that, right? 'Cause I think human extinction might actually preferable to that kinda thing."

Block sighed and activated the com. "Paula, send up a sandwich platter to Conference Room C."

"_Uh, what kinds of sandwiches, sir?_"

"Do I sound like I care?" Block snapped back. "Surprise them!"

"Can they be pastrami?" asked Dakota. "I could really go for pastrami right now."

"I knew there was a reason I liked you more," Helga remarked.

"You heard them. Pastrami. Block out." He hung up on the receptionist.

* * *

An hour and fifty-two minutes of stress eating and frustrated boredom later, Helga and the two time travelers were brought down to the BoTT's main lab, where a tech had just finished retrieving the data from the Timey-Wimey Ball.

Helga glanced at the lab tech, a tall woman with a long oval face, prominent front teeth, auburn hair worn in twin braids, and circular-framed glasses. "Excuse me," she said, "do I know you? I feel like I know you from somewhere."

"That seems most unlikely," the tech answered, pushing her glasses back up, "given that you've never been to this particular era before, nor have I been to the era you originate from."

"Yeah, I know, I just… it feels like I've seen someone like you before on a playground somewhere… maybe in another life or something."

"I am a scientist. I don't deal in metaphysics. In any case, we have manages to determine exactly how far your daughter was displaced and in which direction… it appears to be a total of negative twenty-five years."

"Finally! Now can we please get her back so we can go home?"

"Just one moment… we are tracing her location. And… we have tempra-telemetry…

On the screen in front of them, a familiar location came into view.

"That's Dino Land," Helga said. "She's still in Dino Land."

"Correct," the tech confirmed. "You daughter was displaced in time, not space."

"That looks like the midway. She looks safe…wait, who's that she's with?" On the screen, Trudy seemed to be talking to someone, but she couldn't exactly make out who it was. That was, until a bystander moved out of the way.

"Holy s*** on a cracker," she swore. "That's _me_."

Another figure moved into frame, this one instantly recognizable due to the unique shape of his head. Helga smiled a bit in spite of herself. "Aw. I forgot how cute he was back then." She continued to watch as the youthful versions of herself and Arnold argued inaudibly about, as far as the adult Helga could guess, a midway game, then as Arnold made several failed attempts to win a prize before Trudy made her own successful attempt and presented Arnold with a giant stuffed Rockin' Rex.

"Wait," she said to herself. "I… I remember that doll. But… I don't remember any other part of this." She shook her head. "None of this is familiar."

"Maybe you just forgot?" suggested Dakota.

"No. It's more than that. I.., I remember a trip to Dino World when I was in fifth grade, but the details are hazy. It's like… my memories were painted over or something."

"Are you suggesting that someone has tampered with your recollection of events?" asked the tech.

"I'm not suggesting. I'm saying it outright. Someone messed with my brain and I don't like it."

"Hmmm," Cavendish mused. "If I recall my studies of time travel lore, the Timey-Wimey Ball was said to only send a subject to the point in time where they were supposed to be. Your daughter's presence in the past may fulfill a pre-ordained purpose… in which case retrieving her before she accomplishes said purpose could prove devastating to the timeline."

Mr. Block blinked, uncomprehending. "That… actually sounded intelligent."

"Well, I did graduate at the top of my class, you know."

"Right, for _some reason _I keep forgetting that. Probably your string of repeated failures."

"Do you guys have the technology to recover my memories?" Helga asked. "Maybe if I could remember exactly what happened that day, you can find out which moment to grab her from. "

"It's worth a shot," the tech mused. "If you could just step over here, we can do a simple Level 1 brainscan to determine exactly what was done to your memories.

The tech seated Helga in a chair that looked like it had been lifted directly out of some futuristic hair salon, complete with a dome-like device that could be fitted over her head. "This may leave you a bit dizzy," she cautioned, "especially given your unique cerebral structure. I've never had the opportunity to scan a half-human, half-Ka'Thaari brain. The data should be most illuminating."

"I'm so very happy for y- whoa…." Lights on the inside of the dome began to change colors in psychedelic patterns. _Who the heck designed this thing, Timothy Leary? _she thought as a strange buzz filled her consciousness. When the thing was removed, she could feel her head swimming, and was starting to regret that third sandwich.

"Well," the tech confirmed, "I can safely say that we can definitely restore your memories," the tech said.

"Oh, and why is that?" Helga asked, though she had a sneaking suspicion she already knew.

"Because we're the ones who did it in the first place," she answered.

The temperature in the room seemed to drop to zero instantly.

"You did WHAT?" Helga hissed.

* * *

**A. N.: BUM BUM BUM!**

**Yeah, another short chapter, but I wanted to get this one done because I'm gonna be unable to work on this story for a few days. When I get back, we'll be going back to more of Trudy hanging with Young Arnold and Helga in the past.**

**If you're confused about why Helga seems to recognize the lab tech, she's supposed to resemble Gretchen Grundler from **_**Recess, **_**in which Francesca Smith played a few minor characters. Just a little Easter egg.**

**J.A.M.: I explained this last chapter. Trudy realized that she could allow herself to be paralyzed with self-doubt and second-guessing over whether she should do anything or not do anything, but that would be pointless, and instead, she decided to just go with the flow for the time being. She's also pretty intrigued about the chance to see what her parents and their friends were really like as kids. **

**Penguin Lord: Yep, time travel is just a rats' nest of problems that can drive you crazy if you try to make sense of them.**

**Jose: Yeah, he doesn't get used as a villain much (the only other time I've seen is in Orange Ratchet's "Oh Rhonda" series). As for Trudy: I see her as what you'd get if you combined Helga's toughness with Arnold's compassionate nature.**

**Crea8tively: Yep. In fact, part of the reason I wrote this story was to find a way to have Trudy finally meet her namesake.**

**Up next: We return to the present for yet more awkward shenanigans, in "How do you Solve a Problem Like Trudy?"!**


	7. How do you Solve a Problem Like Trudy?

**A.N.: Looking back, I realized I messed up the timeline as far back as **_**And You May Ask Yourself**_**. I established Body Issues as taking place in late 2017-early 2018 with the kids in 6****th**** grade. The framing sequence of AYMAY was supposed to take place shortly after the Neighborhood Movie/April Fools Day, where the kids were still in 4****th**** grade. I mistakenly set in in April of 2015 when it should have been 201**_**6**_**. I'm ashamed of myself for having failed to catch it earlier.**

**That said, let's establish the timeline once and for all. **

**And You May Ask Yourself (framing sequence): April 2016**

**Time's Arrow (past sequences): May 2017**

**Body Issues: December 2017/January 2018**

**Pairing the Spares: Early fall 2020 (flashback sequence November 2018)**

**AYMAY (main story): April 2041**

**TA (future sequences): May 2042**

**There. This is officially the official timeline. Hopefully I can stick to it this time.**

* * *

Chapter 7

How do you Solve a Problem Like Trudy?

_Dino Land_

_-HELGA-_

Operation Third Wheel was underway, and so far, I wasn't sure just how it was going. The plan was, intrude on Arnold's alone time with Trudy, the new girl, and make sure they don't spark. Simple enough, right? Every time it looked like they might talk, get in the way. Monopolize the conversation. Constantly distract them. Keep them the hell away from anything _remotely_ romantic.

So far, it seemed like that was actually working. Not only had the mood been thoroughly killed as far as I could tell, but Arnold's one attempt to assert himself over my meddling and make a romantic gesture had backfired spectacularly when, not only had he failed to win Trudy a prize, but Trudy had flipped the script on him and won HIM a giant stuffed dinosaur, making him look like a chump. I may not be an expert on the typical ten-year-old boy, but one thing I did know is they hated getting shown up by a girl.

So, I guess that part was going well, but there was one very unforeseen complication creeping into the plan.

Empathy.

The three of us had arrived at the Food Cave to join the rest of the gang for lunch. The group was already waiting outside when we arrived; somehow, I guess they managed to convince Harold not to go right in and gorge himself silly before we got there.

"Man, that is one huge prize, Arnold," Gerald remarked.

"He won it for me in the ball toss game," Trudy lied, unprompted.

"Aw…" cooed Rhonda. Criminy, that chick must _live_ on rom-coms.

"Smooth…" Sid teased. "So you really _do_ like her."

"Wha?" Arnold stammered. "N-no, I was just being nice!"

"Yeah, it's no big deal!" Trudy added, seemingly as off-guard about the whole deal as Arnold was. "I just mentioned that I used to have a toy like that, and he went and won me a new one, that's all! Trust me, there is NOTHING going on here!"

"See? She agrees."

"Mmm-hmm," nodded Gerald with mock understanding. "Sure there isn't, buddy."

Harold's belly rumbled. "Aw, we can tease Arnold about his girlfriend later! I'm starving!"

"There's a shocker," I mumbled, motioning Phoebe over as the others filed into the park eatery. "You. Me. Private girl talk. Now." I whispered, pulling her behind the restaurant.

"I take it Operation Third Wheel is not going quite as smoothly as you imagined?" Phoebe asked archly, smirking. Yeesh, is it just me, or has she been taking some levels in sass lately? Then again, I'm probably rubbing off on her.

"Well, it was… at least I thought it was," I admitted. "I got between them at every opportunity. I never let him get a word in edgewise. I always took the middle seat on the rides we went on. Everything was going so well. And then, she goes and wins him that prize!"

"But… I thought Ice Cream won that prize for her?"

"Trust me, I was there. Ice Cream didn't come anywhere near winning anything. She actually wound up taking pity on him. And y'know what, I was fine with that. If there's anything that puts the kibosh on a blossoming romance, it's a crushed male ego. But then we get here, and she lies about winning the prize to _spare his feelings_. And what does that tell you?"

"That she has consideration for the damage that could have befallen his pride?"

"Exactly! She's madly in love with him!"

"Uh… Helga… you do understand that it is entirely possible to feel compassion for another person without having any romantic feelings whatsoever for them?"

"Since when?"

"Helga… I wonder if you may be seeing something that might not entirely be there outside of your imagination."

"Okay… maybe I'm wrong about her… but I'm not wrong about him. I've seen the way he looks at that girl. It's the same way he used to look at Ruth, Lila, and all those other girls he's had a thing for."

"At the risk of repeating myself, are you certain you're not misinterpreting what's going on between them? He's not exactly the most expressive individual, so you might be reading him wrong. Not to mention she's hardly the type of girl he's shown interest in the past. She isn't feminine or conventionally attractive… in fact, if I had to guess of whom she most reminded me of, it would-"

"Trust me," I interjected, interrupting Phoebe's train of thought, "I've obsessively stalked Arnold enough that I can interpret even the subtlest nuances of that half-lidded stare of his, and believe me, that boy has got it bad. But there's one more thing."

"And that is…?"

"I think I like her."

Phoebe blinked uncomprehendingly. "You what now?"

"It's weird, I know. I _should_ hate her. I should hate anyone who comes between me and him. He's _mine_. And yet… I actually feel _bad_ this time." I took a deep breath, trying to order my thoughts. "She likes _wrestling_, Pheebs. A girl who likes wrestling. Do you know how hard that is to find in this crazy world?"

"I… may… eventually grow to… tolerate it?" Phoebe said unconvincingly.

"It's nice of you to lie to me like that, but we both know that isn't true. Look… you know nobody's going to replace you, ever, but I feel like I connect with this girl, on some fundamental level."

Phoebe smirked a bit again. "It almost sounds as if you're the one with a crush on her."

If I'd been drinking something at the time, this would've been a prime spit take moment. "Wha- me?"

"I have read that human sexual identity is much more fluid than most believe. It wouldn't be out of the ordinary for someone that believed herself to be entirely-"

"…lemme stop you right there, Pheebs. Now is not the time to be going down that road. Besides, are't we a little young to be thinking of this sort of thing?"

"Sexual identity does form at a younger age than most thi-"

"LA LA LA LA LA, I CAN'T HEAR YOU, WE'RE NOT TALKING ABOUT THIS…"

"Alll right, all right… so, what does this mean? Are we abandoning the operation?"

"No… maybe… I don't know! I want Ice Cream, but… I don't wanna hurt Steamed Cabbage! And…"

"Yes?"

"Pheebs… what if I'm not the one?"

"Helga!"

"What if this is his true destiny? What if I was the false lead all along? What if she's the one he belongs with? What if my destiny is to be alone and unloved and-" My tirade was cut off when Phoebe gave me a quick slap in the face. "OW!"

"Sorry, Helga, but you were spiraling."

"Thanks," I said.

"So… what are you going to do? And don't say 'give up', because that is not who you are. Eyes on the prize."

"Eyes on the prize," I repeated.

"We have come far too far for you to just give up now."

"Have we? It's been seven years and I've made absolutely no headway. I thought maybe the whole FTI incident was a sign that maybe things were turning a corner, but it's been over a year since then and… nothing."

"Is it nothing though? If he's truly falling for this girl, it's the first time he's had a crush since Lila. And this time, it's on a smart, tough blonde tomboy."

"What's your point?"

"My point… is that I think, subconsciously, his attraction to Trudy is a displacement of his latent attraction to _you_."

"No. That can't be right. There's no way… no…" I paused. It made a sick sort of sense, actually. Trudy was like some kind of strange alternate version of me that hadn't been treating Arnold like crap for years. Like… that Gloria chick that I thought I dreamed up but then it turned out she was real and what was that all about? Only this one didn't wanna make me retch.

No, no. That would be way too good to be true. I'm Helga Pataki. Good things don't come my way.

"Look…" I continued, "even if you're right and Arnold's just using her as a subconscious replacement for me… what good does that do me? Even if she's a replacement for me, she's still _she_ and not me… am I making sense?"

"Not… really?"

"Okay, what I'm saying is, even if Ar- Ice Cream's attraction to her is just a displaced attraction to me, _she's_ still the target. Not me. How do I compete wit a better version of myself?"

"By being an even _better_ better version of yourself."

"…come again? Phoebe, did you overheat your brain again?"

"I'm saying, maybe now's the time to show Ar- Ice Cream the softer side of yourself. That there's more to you than just anger and sarcasm."

"Phoebe, that's crazy talk."

"Or, _or_… it's 'that's just crazy enough to work' talk."

"No, it's crazy talk."

"Helga… think about it. You've tried everything else… maybe it's time to give sincerity a shot?"

I mulled Phoebe's words. It was true. Underhanded schemes had gotten me the odd moment here and there, but really, I'd made absolutely no progress. One step forward, fifty steps back, that was my life.

Maybe…. Maybe I could start showing the softer side of me. Just a little bit. Not too much. Don't wanna have anyone thinking I'm a pushover or nothin'.

"Okay, Pheeb… I guess you're r- I guess you're ruh-"

"Come on. You can say it…"

"R-right…"

"There you go."

"Ugh, I feel like I have to take a shower now. Anyway, yeah… yeah you know what? I am gonna show Arnold my compassionate side! In fact… I'm gonna show Arnold so much kindness and compassion he's gonna choke on it!"

"Uh, Helga, I fear you may be missing the point of this-"

"CHOKE ON IT!" I took a deep breath. "Well, that's a load off my mind! C'mon, Pheebs, let's go put things in motion. Oh, and, as per usual… this conversation never happened."

"Of course. Forgetting!"

* * *

_-ARNOLD-_

The Food Cave was decorated in a style I'd basically call "Early Flintstone". The place was designed like a large cavern with stalactite-shaped light fixtures, the tables and chairs seemingly hewn out of stone and wood though they were in fact plastic… the lighting inside was kind of dim and the whole place did kind of have a dank feel to it even though the air quality was probably normal. You had to hand it to Dino Land, they did know how to stay on theme.

The Flintstones-y theming applied to the menu as well, with offerings like Brachio-Burgers, Pteranodon Nuggets, and Perma-Frosties. The quality was probably dubious and everything was overpriced, but it was the only game in town. The group had considered sneaking their own food in but nobody wanted to lug it around the whole morning and the plan was abandoned.

Upon finally reaching the front of the considerable line, the gang was studying the menu's offerings, trying to see what exactly they could afford.

"Er… you wouldn't happen to have a salad bar, would you?" asked Rhonda, ever concerned about her figure. I wasn't sure why, seeing as she was one of the slimmest of the group.

"Over there," the cashier indicated, pointing out a forlorn station located in a dingy-looking corner of the cave. It looked so abandoned that I wondered whether the cobwebs attached to it weren't just for effect.

Rhonda eyed the salad bar suspiciously. "I… don't think tomatoes are supposed to be gray…" she observed, The cashier shrugged. "I guess this is my cheat day, then…"

I turned to Trudy. "So, what do you think looks good?" I asked in way of conversation?

"Eh, I dunno… I think I'll skip. I had a big breakfast anyway. I'm not really all that hungry." Her words were immediately belied by her stomach growling. "Really, it's fine."

_Maybe she doesn't have any money on her, _I reasoned. "You could share with me," I offered.

"You really don't have to do that," she protested.

"It's okay," I responded. "The portions here are too big anyway."

"For you, maybe," mumbled Harold as he accepted his extra-large order.

"No, really, it's…" Her stomach growled again. "…well, if you really feel like you have to…"

Okay, now it was starting to go better, now that Helga'd gone off with Phoebe. I'd gotten Trudy to agree to me buying her lunch, we'd go get a table together, we'd get to know each other better, one thing would lead to another…

"Hey, Football Head, ya miss me?"

Oh, god, no.

"Helga? There was a huge line behind us, how'd you catch up so fast?"

"Oh, you know, a little," she made a fist in emphasis, "friendly persuasion… so, hey, it's pretty crowded in here, so I had Pheebs save us the good table by that cool glowy fountain, so, you, tall hair boy, and mystery girl can come and join us if you want. Like… I dunno, it's no big deal if you don't, but hey, I figured I'd make the offer, seeing as I _am_ a pretty nice person."

"Um…" I looked around, but she was right… this place was pretty full and there probably wasn't much chance of finding a table for just the two of us. "…thanks."

"No problem, Arnoldo. That's me, thinking of others all the time. I'm just such a compassionate type of gal. Hey, while I'm here, why don't I treat you two to a couple of perma-frosties?"

"Really, that's okay, the food here is overpriced enough without you spending money on us," I said, wondering just what Helga's game was here. Hot sauce in the shakes? Dumping them over our heads? It was hard to predict just what she would do, other than it would probably wind up humiliating me.

"It's totally fine. I'll probably just wind up eating most of Phoebe's lunch anyway. Girl eats like a bird."

"I don't really like shakes, but thanks anyway," Trudy said, smiling graciously. "I really appreciate the offer, and I'm sure Arnold does too."

"Well, you know me, always glad to do nice things for people. That's just the kinda gal I am."

Just what was she up to? This couldn't be genuine, she was laying it on way too thick for that. As much as I would love to believe that Helga had truly decided to suddenly turn over a new leaf, the fact of the matter was this was probably some kind of scheme. And a part of me hated myself for thinking that, but sadly, despite having done the occasional selfless act over the years, the truth of the matter was, Helga had shown no signs that she would ever really change.

* * *

_-TRUDY-_

So far, my plan to just go with the flow was going okay. Mostly.

I'd almost slipped up earlier when I referenced Black Sox relief pitcher Nikki Kaline, league leader in saves, my own personal hero (ever since that day mom and dad had taken me to the Old Timers' game and I'd gotten to take a picture with three generations of Kalines)… and in this current year, a toddler. Luckily, Arnold had misheard me and assumed I was talking about her grandfather, _Mickey_ Kaline, and the potential crisis had been averted.

This had been the second potential crisis. See, I had money… 2040's money. I probably could have gotten away with passing it off a few years ago, before 2038's currency redesign, but there was no way I could pass off the crisp new bright orange twenty in my pocket as the real thing. Even the most inattentive cashier would immediately spot it as a "fake".

I'd been prepared to just skip lunch, despite my protesting stomachs (yes, I have more than one), but my dad had graciously offered to split his lunch with me, and I wasn't in much of a position to turn him down.

I actually didn't feel too bad about it looking around at the rest of the group. A lot of the other kids were also splitting their meals with someone else.

Kids. It was weird to think of it. I knew practically everyone here… only as adults.

Sitting across from us were Akiko's mom and dad, Phoebe and Gerald Heyerdahl-Johanssen, At the next table over was Riva's dad Harold Berman, Courtney's moms Rhonda and Nadine Robinson-Lloyd, and mom and dad's friends Stan Petersen and Sid Gifaldi, as well as some guy with a brown mushroom cut and sunglasses that I didn't recognize at all.

Only, y'know, kids. So they probably weren't anything like the people I knew. I certainly don't remember Mr. Berman being this loud, stupid and obnoxious, for one. Or Mrs. Robinson-Lloyd being this self-absorbed. Or… well, I barely knew Mr. Gifaldi other than that he was Lila's manager and friend-with-benefits. I guess seeing the adults you know as kids can be pretty revealing.

Mom was especially strange to deal with. I knew her as calm (mostly), composed, generally having the right answers… and here she was, an awkward, snippy, emotionally turbulent girl. Kinda like… me.

"So, uh, Trudy was it?" Mr. Johanssen - Gerald, I reminded myself. He's just Gerald now. Calling him Mr. would be weird – asked me. "What's your deal?"

"Excuse me?"

"You know… what are you into. If you're hangin' around my man Arnold, I gotta know this kinda stuff."

"Um, well… I guess the same stuff regular kids like the rest of you are into. Sports, movies, games, uh… I like animals… reptiles, especially…"

"Oh?" Nadine perked up. "Reptiles are my second-favorite classification of animal! What's your favorite?"

"Well… I'm a little biased, 'cause I have one as a pet, but I've always loved monitor lizards."

"What an amazing coincidence!" Helga cut in. "I once adopted a monitor lizard. He was abused by his previous owner, the poor thing, but I gave him a good home. That's just the kind of kind, compassionate soul I am."

"Oh, brother," Arnold grumbled, rolling his eyes.

"Sadly, I could not continue to provide the care it needed, so I was forced to donate the dear creature to the zoo. But I was just happy to, for the brief time that I could, provide care to one of God's most beautiful creatures."

"Okay, Helga, just knock it off," Arnold interrupted.

"Why, whatever are you talking about?" Helga replied innocently.

"This. This whole… thing you're doing. This isn't you. You don't act like this."

"I'm not sure I understand…" Helga answered. I could see she was beginning to lose her composure.

"Of course you do! Look, I don't know who you're trying to fool with this whole saint act, but it isn't working on me, okay?'

"Arnold…"

"You know, it was kind of annoying when you were hanging around with us earlier, but at least you were acting like yourself back then! Not this whole crazy act you're putting on. I don't know what your game is here, but I really don't feel like playing. So would you just stop?"

All through Arnold's tirade, I watched the emotion play over my mother's face. Shock, betrayal, hurt, disappointment, anger, and despair, all mixed together in a roiling emotional stew. When he finished, they passed and her face hardened into a rueful smirk. "All right, Arnold. Ya got me. I'm doing all this to emotionally manipulate you. Because, deep down, I'm just a terrible, irredeemable person with a heart of solid coal and that's just the kind of thing we terrible, irredeemable people do. We also do things like this." She grabbed the ketchup and mustard dispensers off the table and squeezed generous portion all over Arnold. "I guess I just can't fool you, can I. Welp… I better go think of the next horrible thing I'm gonna do to you. See ya around, Football Head.

She stomped out, pausing only to grab a handful of fries off of Phoebe's plate.

The other kids simply stared at the scene.

"I'll go talk to her," Phoebe said, excusing herself from the table.

The silence continued uncomfortably for a moment.

"Look, all I said was-" Arnold protested.

"Dude… that was just _harsh_," the kid with the sunglasses said.

"I reckon you done devastated her, emotionally speaking," Stan drawled disapprovingly.

"Boy howdy, you ain't kiddin'" Sid agreed.

"But I-"

"Did you see her face, Arnold?" Rhonda added. "I… I know it sounds crazy, but… I think she was actually trying to be nice, in her weird, messed up Helga way. And you hurt her. You hurt her bad. Everybody has feelings, Arnold. Even the mean girls." She sighed to herself. "Even the mean girls."

"Gerald, back me up here…"

"Bro… you know I'm the last guy in the world to go to bat for Helga G. Pataki, but…"

"Oh, come on, Gerald, not you too!"

"I'm sorry, but… I think Rhonda was right. She really was trying, and threw it back in her face. You know I always got your back, but… I can't back you up on this one. You messed up."

Arnold sighed to himself. "I know. Aw, man… how am I gonna make it up to her?"

"I dunno, man, but you gotta think of something. You let this sit too long, it's gonna fester. And however bad Helga's been to you… things're gonna get a lot worse."

The whole scene had played out before me. Was this why I was here? Was I going to play a part in smoothing things over between my future parents?

This trip was proving to be a mess. It had been pretty revealing, though. I'd learned a very valuable lesson today; no matter how much you look up to your parents, they're just as capable of royally screwing up as anyone else.

* * *

**A.N.: Yeah, Arnold messed up pretty bad here… where's it gonna go from here? We'll find out soon! Next, though, it's back to Adult Helga as we find out just how her mind was tampered with.**

**Penguin Lord: Yeah, it looks like Trudy was destined to be here, but just what kind of impact is she going to have on things?**

**J.A.M.: I think she'd be looking over her shoulder for Arnie. Actually, are we sure Arnie **_**wasn't**_** Q?**

**Jose: Technically, that's not Gretchen, that's just someone who looks like Gretchen. Her actual name is Gretel Grindle, original character do not steal.**

**LP: Thanks for the kind comments, and I'm looking forward to hearing your thoughts on my other stories!**

**Cre8tively: Heh, I never really saw the parallels until I saw KerenityChan's mashup sketches, but yeah, I can definitely see it now. The weird thing is that I this case it's the Rhonda analogue who has sister issues…**

**Next**_**: I've Got You in My Mind**_


	8. I've Got You in my Mind

Chapter 8

I've Got You In My Mind

_Bureau of Time Travel HQ, 2175_

_-HELGA (adult) –_

"Okay… I'm gonna ask you to repeat that last bit to me again, because like the orangutan who took a whole package of Ex-Lax, I am about to go absolutely apes***."

So, here's the deal. This day was supposed to just be a fun outing to Dino Land with my husband, my kids, and my friends' kids that got fobbed off onto me because everyone else was too busy to chaperone. One time-displaced daughter later (trust me, this is not too out of the ordinary when you're me), here I am in the 22nd century finding out that Trudy's stuck in the past. 25 years in the past, to be exact. My past. Not 25 years in the past from where I currently am. God, I hate time travel.

"I said that we're the ones who altered your memories," the resident scientist chick replied nervously. Apparently, word of my legendary temper has survived all the way to this far-off year. I mean, it's not as I keep it a secret. It's literally my chosen superhero codename (both as a self-deprecating joke and a reference to my power to generate intense heat and cold).

"Right. Okay. That's what I thought you said. So, any chance you could point me to whichever one of you did it? I promise I'll only murder them a little bit."

"Er, well…" the scientist hemmed, pushing up her glasses, "that will be a bit tricky, considering it hasn't happened yet."

"Oh, of course. It hasn't happened yet. What was I thinking." I rubbed my temples in irritation. "Here I thought that there was clear evidence that it has happened, seeing as my memories have been tampered with at some point in the past, but obviously I must be mistaken, seeing as it hasn't happened yet!"

"Er, yes, what I mean to say is, yes, your memories have been tampered with in your past, relative to your own timeline, but relative to our timeline, we haven't gone back and done it yet."

…right, of course. That actually made sense. _I hate time travel. I hate time travel. I hate time travel. _ I took a deep breath, releasing some of my growing frustration. "Sorry. It's not your fault."

"Well, actually, it may very well be my fault, it just isn't my fault ye-" The scientist stopped herself, probably realizing she wasn't exactly making a better case for herself well-actuallying at this time. "Ahem. In any case, while we haven't gone back to alter your memories at this point in time, we do recognize the signs that it has been done, and we should be able to remove the blocks that are in place. With your permission, of course."

"Why would that be stopping you now?" I asked, perhaps a little too bitterly. Then again, why wouldn't I be bitter about it? My mind had been tampered with against my will. I should be bitter. I should be furious. I should be tearing this place apart. I probably would be if I was my younger self. If I didn't have people depending on me to be stable and steady.

"You must understand that the decision to tamper with memories is not one we make lightly. We only do it in the direst of circumstances. Instances in which the timeline could be irreparably damaged if certain knowledge remained intact."

I sighed. "Yeah, yeah, time is a fragile thing, changing one thing could change everything, butterfly effect and yadda yadda yadda. I understand. I don't have to like it, but I understand. Okay… so how do we remove these blocks? Shine the MIB light in my eyes?"

"Er… not exactly. You see, the alterations we made to your memories had to be very intrusive if they were to survive the changes that would eventually affect your brain. The can be undone… but you will have to make one adjustment before we can."

* * *

"Adjustment" was putting it mildly.

It became apparent just what the scientist (who I learned was named Gretel Grindle) meant when she led me to a side lab. Located therein was a tilted examination bed that I was supposed to lie down on, and an elaborate headset designed to beam lasers directly into my eyeballs.

All three of them.

"If you, uh, require privacy to make your changes, I can leave the room until you're ready…"

"Well, you don't have to. We're both adults here. I'd say 'it's not like I have anything you haven't seen before' but we both know that would be a lie."

"I must confess a certain scientific curiosity." She remarked, blushing.

"Suit yourself," I said, removing my T-shirt. Gretel turned bright red and whirled around to face the other way. Just as well. I relaxed and closed my eyes. When I assume my human form, what I'm actually doing is subconsciously forcing my body's cells into a shape approximating my old look, though it's mostly skin deep. My internal organs for the most part stay the same, which is why I haven't been to a doctor that isn't my mother-in-law or Phoebe in 25 years. To change back, all I needed to do was release that subconscious hold and let my body revert back to what it was supposed to be.

I felt it now, my toes and fingers melting together, my lower arms, wings, horns, and tail regrowing, my ears and tongue reshaping, my canine teeth and fingernails enlarging and growing sharper, and my third eye emerging from the recesses of my brain, through its reforming socket.

"Okay, you can look now," I said.

Gretel turned back to face me. "Oh, you're… still not wearing a shirt, are you."

"Doesn't exactly fit over the wings. Besides… I'm pretty sure you've seen these before… you _have_ a pair…" I joked.

"Yes, but not, ah… that color… or, uh, size…" Okay. I'll give her color. Humans generally don't come in the shade of pink I do. But it's not like they were _that_ big. Not small, either, but that was only to be expected from Miriam Pataki's daughter. _She should see Lila. Now that girl is endowed. It's like she welded two ripe honeydews to her chest. Must be that farm upbringing._

"You don't get out much, do you," I remarked.

"I do not, no," she admitted.

Changing the subject, I asked "So, I lie down here, then?

Gretel cleared her throat. " Ah, yes. The padding should conform to your, uh, unique anatomy so that you'll be comfortable on your back."

"All right then." I got on, arranging myself as best in could. True to her word, the pad remolded itself to fit the contours of my body. Various monitoring electrodes were attached to my back near my spine, to my upper-right and lower-left hands, to my chest, to my neck, and to my forehead. Displays of my internal anatomy popped up on the holoscreeens. Finally, Gretel attached the modular headpiece to the machine, aligning each of the three tips with one of my pupils.

"This may be a bit unpleasant for you," she warned, taping my eyelids open, "but we need to ensure you don't close your eyes.

"Right, but be quick, I have to meet me droogies at the ol' milk bar," I said in a mock-British accent.

"…beg pardon?"

"Nothing, dated movie reference, you probably wouldn't get it. So, how long before this thing kicks i-"

There was a sharp jolt of pain as my vision whited out completely. "The blindness should be only temporary," assured Gretel.

"Thanks for the warning," I sarcastically shot back.

"Well, I was going to be shining lasers directly into your pupils, what did you expect?"

"Touché," I admitted. "Now long before this thing kicks in?"

"Not too long. You should soon be recalling those memories that were repressed, beginning with the most re-"

* * *

_I looked on from my vantage point in the shadows as the cops loaded Nick Vermicelli and his associates into the back of the paddy wagon. It didn't matter how resourceful his lawyer was this time, there was no way the man was getting out of prison any time soon. Not on multiple counts of kidnapping and attempted murder. _

_Arnold, Gerald and Phoebe sat on the sidelines, wrapped in the blankets the police had left. They would still remain in the area until everything was in order, but for now, the situation was at an end. Arnold's grandmother, clad in camo fatigues and an army helmet, stood vigil, assuring no further harm would come to the children. I was certain the tough old bird was up to the task._

"_So, you gonna go talk to him or what?" asked a voice to my left._

"_What would be the point?" I asked its owner. _

"_Well he kinda does owe you his life," the red-skinned, multilimbed, three-eyed preteen replied with an impish grin. "People do tend to be grateful in that kind of situation."_

"_Yeah, right," I muttered. "Like I could've done any of it without your help. Besides, if I do, I'll probably just wind up sabotaging myself like I always do. It doesn't matter how many grand gestures I make. He's never going to see me as anything more that that weird, mean, ugly girl who's constantly tormenting him."_

"_That's not true, Helga," she said. "I think your persistence is going to pay off in the long run. Probably sooner than you think."_

"_What are you talking about? The boy's head over heels for YOU, Trudy. Not me. Even knowing what you really are."_

_Trudy shook her head. "Believe me, Helga. The absolute last thing I want to do is get involved with Arnold Shortman." She shuddered at the thought._

_Despite myself, I found myself taking offense at her flat-out rejection of my beloved. "What, so now he's not good enough for you? Miss Mutant here thinks she's better than him?"_

"_Trust me, Helga, that's not the reason at all."_

"_Then what is it? What could possibly be the reason you'd reject Arnold?"_

"_Well… for one thing, I'm hecka gay."_

_A very long, uncomfortable silence, as it sank in and I realized just how completely off my reading of the situation was._

"_Ohhhhhh," I finally replied, breaking it. _

"_Actually, I should probably break it to him. He thinks I've been rejecting him because of something wrong with him. And that's the last thing I want. But… the area's still crawling with cops, and I can't let myself be seen like this. It's still gonna be a bit before I can go human again."_

"_Jeez, what is with you? It's like you have some kind of vested interest in seeing the two of us get together."_

"_Maybe I'm just a shipper at heart," she said, smirking. "Maybe I think you two would be cute together. Maybe I have other reasons. Does it matter? I'm on your side here."_

"_Yeah, but why? What IS your deal, anyway? You show up outta nowhere, nothing about your background makes sense, and you're secretly some kind of awesome super-powered monster girl? What's your story, and why do you care so much about what happens to me? Are you my guardian angel or something? Figures mine would look more like she came from the other place…"_

"_I… I can't say. I wish I could tell you. I wish I could tell you everything, but I can't. I really shouldn't have even stayed here as long as I have, but I couldn't resist getting to know them, even though it was probably the wrong thing. As it is, today's probably the last day any of you will ever see me."_

"_Getting to know who? What are you talking about? Why do you have to go?"_

"_Because I was never supposed to be here to begin with! Every minute I'm here there's more of a potential for things to go wrong."_

"_Why, though? What's the big deal? Barely anyone knows about this whole situation here. Just a few kids who won't tell anyone, a bunch of criminals who nobody will believe, and a 'crazy' old lady."_

"_It's not just that. I…"_

_We were interrupted by a strange noise from behind us… stranger still considering we were in a dead-end alley and all that was behind us was a brick wall. Said wall seemed to distort and deform before our eyes, opening to reveal swirling portal. Three figures stepped through, two men and a woman. One of the men appeared tall and distinguished, dressed in anachronistic Victorian-esque attire, complete with pince-nez glasses and a top hat adorned with needless goggles. The other man was much more casually dressed in a red, orange and yellow tracksuit and sunglasses._

_It was the third that captured my attention the most. She was a tall, striking blonde clad in jean shorts, a T-Shirt advertising something called "Monster Princess", and sunglasses, as if she'd just come from some sort of vacation._

_I didn't have much time to speculate on the woman's identity, because it was immediately revealed when Trudy yelled "MOM!" and leaped into her waiting arms. _

"_Mom?" I repeated, incredulously._

"_That's right, Helga," the woman replied warmly. "I'll be taking my girl home now. Thanks for taking care of her, but then, I expected no less from you."_

_My eyes narrowed at her. "Wait… how do you even know my name?" I glared at her. "Is this some kind of scam? Have you been spying on me or something?"_

"_Nothing like that," she said. "The answer's a lot simpler."_

"_What do you mean?"_

"_Well… I guess it wouldn't hurt to tell you. Considering none of you are going to remember any of this."_

* * *

And with that, the dam broke, and it all came flooding back.

"Stop," I said, as I snapped back to reality (though it was hard to tell, as I was still pretty much blind). "Turn it off. I remember everything."

I heard the sound of the machine being shut off and a feeling of relief as I could no longer feel the lasers penetrating my eyes. I felt hands helping me into a sitting position as I should off the disorientation.

"What did you see?" asked the blurry shadow that I assumed was Gretel?"

"Well, you don't have to worry about finding the guy who wiped my memory."

"Oh, you saw who it was?"

"You could say that. It was _me_."

* * *

**A. N.: Another short chapter. It's mainly transitional, as from here on in we'll be focusing entirely on the kids in the past. I also went back to first-person narration despite having done all the future segments in third-person because, honestly, I feel more comfortable writing this way.**

**Flashing forward to the story's ending might seem like an odd choice, and it probably is, but we haven't seen everything, and we don't know how we get there just yet. I think it has more impact to actually see what Helga is seeing than to just show the procedure from the outside and then have her say, "Oh. I did it."**

**J.A.M.: Kablam indeed.**

**Jose: Helga is in many ways her own worst enemy, yes.**

**Next: "In the Dark"**


	9. In the Dark

Chapter 9

In the Dark

_The Haunted Cave, Dino Land_

_-HELGA-_

The Haunted Cave was Dino Land's answer to the typical haunted house attraction seemingly found in every amusement park in existence. It was a twisty maze of dark passages littered with holographic ghost dinosaurs and animatronic skeletal and "zombie" dinosaurs. As if the prehistoric lizards, nature's original perfect killing machines, weren't scary enough on their own without being transformed into the living dead.

Still, this was the perfect place for me right now. The dark, dank, dismal atmosphere was the perfect counterpart to my dark, dank, dismal mood. A nice plus was that there were plenty of isolated nooks in here that made great places for brooding.

"I really made a Helga out of it today, didn't I," I said to no one in particular. "Really Helga'd the hell out of it. Helga'd myself good."

The moment played out in my mind over and over again… my admittedly clumsy attempts to show myself a kind, compassionate person, Arnold's harsh response accusing me of trying to pull some kind of con, and the moment that I snapped, declared that he was right and I was a horrible person, and gave him an impromptu condiment facial.

And then I bolted like the coward I truly am at heart. Ran out, holed up in the darkest, most out-of-the-way hiding spot I could find, behind this broken undead raptor animatronic. If anyone knew a kid could get behind here, this place would get so many safety code violations it would make Sammy Redmond's head spin, but I pretty much knew how to get in here without anyone knowing the wiser. Yep, nobody would ever find me-

"Helga?"

Nobody except a girl who knows me better than my own family does (yeah, right, like that's so hard), and who is way too smart for her own good, that is.

I held my breath as best I could and waited for Phoebe to move on from my hiding spot. "Helga? Are you in here?" she called out again.

_Just a few more seconds, _I thought. _Just keep holding it until she gives up and tries somewhere else._ But fate, as usual, was not on Helga G. Pataki's side this day. Fate, instead, decided that now was the perfect time for all the dust back here in this alcove to trigger my nose.

If an exhale had a chance of attracting Phoebe's attention, a sneeze, boosted by the cave's echoey acoustics, was as good as a siren.

"There you are," she replied, making her way to my location.

"Uh, nobody here but us zombie dinosaurs," I answered.

"Please. I know that sneeze of yours anywhere." Yep, definitely developing a bit of a sass-back streak, that one.

"How'd you even find me?" I asked, sliding over a bit to give her some space.

"Well…" she adjusted her glasses unnecessarily (she always did this unconsciously when she was explaining something, probably because it made her seem more scholarly), "knowing your habits and general pattern of behavior, I came to the conclusion that you would choose a brooding spot that most accurately reflected your current mood."

"I am _not _brooding," I protested.

"Oh, my mistake," Phoebe sarcastically responded. "I'm certain you've sequestered yourself in this dark, miserable location because you feel good about what just occurred."

"That's _right_," I snapped. "I feel downright ecstatic! I totally humiliated Arnold and I feel really good about it! Everything couldn't have _turned out better_!"

"Well, that's good to know."

"So, you can just go back to the rest of the gang and tell them that I'm just fine, not that they'd care in the slightest, I'm sure."

"Helga…"

"…damn it, Pheebs, why am I so _bad_ at this? Why can't I just… be a good person, instead of some sort of grotesque parody of one?"

"Helga… you _are_ a good person."

"No, Phoebe. I'm not. Deep down, I'm just… not. You know why I got so mad just now? It's because I know, in my heart, that he's right about me. I am, fundamentally, a bad human being. My entire life revolves around concocting elaborate schemes to get what I want. Or who. Even when I do something good, it's not because it's the right thing to do. It's because I want him to like me. I'm just a mean, selfish person at heart, and every day I prove it a little more."

"No. I don't believe that, Helga. That's not who you are. It's just a mask."

"Pheeb, you ever see that old _Gloomy Realm_ episode where the dying millionaire makes his whole terrible family wear masks that reflect their real personalities, and at the end the masks become their real faces? Well… that's me. The mask became my real face long ago. Whatever the old Helga used to be, well, she's gone, and now I'm this messed-up obsessed stalker with a mean streak a mile long and I don't think I'm ever going to be any different."

"That's just the immediate feeling of rejection talking, Helga. I refuse to believe you are irredeemable, and I refuse to believe that _you_ believe that."

"You can believe whatever you feel like believing." Sighing, I eased my way out of the alcove and around the idle animatronic. "You know what, I think I'm just gonna call it a day. Go tell everyone I went home or jumped a tramp steamer or got kidnapped by a pack of revenge-seeking midget clowns or something. You know what? That last thing. It sounds cooler."

"But…" Phoebe began, beginning to follow.

"Don't, just don't. I just… want to be alone right now, okay? Could you do that for me?"

"Very well," she replied. "But don't expect me to _not_ worry about you."

"Believe me, you'd be the only one."

* * *

_-PHOEBE-_

BFF protocol demanded that I give Helga her space, so I waited the appropriate amount of time before I followed her out of the Haunted Cave. By then, she had vanished into the ether, and while I could predict several of her likely destinations, there was no way to tell which she'd choose. Even if I did manage to choose the right one, she likely wouldn't appreciate me following her after I had specifically been told not to, and the last thing I wanted to do at this point was to exacerbate her dark mood.

Being Helga Pataki's BFF could be a very stressful occupation sometimes. Fulfilling, ultimately, but stressful.

At the moment, all I could do was rejoin the group. A quick check of Rhonda's Instagraph account (her obsessive social media use occasionally proved convenient) confirmed they were approaching the Tyranto-Scareus Rex (back in service after a _very_ public breakdown last year), which wasn't that far from the Haunted Cave.

By serendipitous circumstance, the first two members of the group I encountered were Arnold and that new girl, Trudy. Upon first meeting her earlier in the day, I felt a certain strange familiarity about her, something I couldn't quantify. I was fairly sure I had never met the girl in my entire life and yet, there was… something. It was more than just the fact that she bore a strange resemblance to my own best friend. There was something more, something just out of my grasp.

"So, were you able to find her?" Arnold asked eagerly.

"I, uh… she, um… she was abducted. By midget clowns."

Trudy raised an eyebrow. "Midget clowns."

"Bent on revenge for a past slight," I elaborated nervously. "They grabbed her just outside the Haunted cave! I tried to fight them off, but they were armed with high-pressure seltzer bottles and you're not buying a word of this, are you?" I sighed. "Look, she's very upset and she kind of just wants to be left alone right now rather than having to face everyone, so she left the park."

"Actually…" Arnold rubbed his arm self-consciously. "Everybody's kinda… taking her side."

"Really?" This was a surprising turn. The group usually tolerated Helga at best. I was under no illusion that any of them really liked her as a person, at least to the point that they would seek out her company by choice. To hear that they were standing up for her in this instance was shocking, to say the least. "Even… Gerald?"

"Even Gerald," he admitted. If I'd been surprised before, I was absolutely stupefied at this development. If Helga and Arnold were fire and water, Helga and Gerald were fire and gasoline. The two never saw eye to eye on anything, and were fundamentally incompatible. Given my closeness to Helga and my… well.. fondness for Gerald – yes, let's call it that. Fondness – their failure to get along was a source of endless consternation. Hearing that he, of all people, was speaking in defense of her, of all people… well, perhaps there was hope.

"And they're kinda right," he continued, dejectedly, "I could see it in her eyes. I really, really hurt her this time." He let out a deep sigh. "You know, I kinda take for granted that she's this tough girl who gets on everyone's nerves and everything, but I kinda forgot that she's still just a person at the end of the day. I really need to apologize to her. Do you have any idea where she might be headed?"

"No. She didn't tell me, and I didn't ask. She clearly didn't want anyone to know, and I respected her intentions."

"Are you telling me that you just let her go off on her own, by herself, to who knows where, and you didn't even bother to ask her where?" asked Trudy incredulously.

"As I said, however I feel about it, whether I agree with her reasoning or not, she's my best friend and I have to respect her wishes. Even if she had told me were she went, I wouldn't be telling you because I will not betray her trust in me." Just why did she care so much anyway? She literally just met Helga today, but she seemed every bit as distraught about the situation as Arnold. Possibly even more so. And yet, that made no sense.

Actually, a lot about this girl was just not adding up. I resolved to do a background check on this "Trudy Schwartzman of PS121" jut as soon as I had the chance.

"Look," I said, "I'm certain that once she blows off some steam, she'll be more receptive to your apology. In the meantime, I request that you give her some space."

"So, that's it, then?" Trudy asked. "We're just going to let her go off and have a sulk, and hope she feels better tomorrow?"

"I think Phoebe's right, Trudy," Arnold replied, resigned. "I have to respect what she wants or I'm just going to antagonize her even further. I guess I can catch her tomorrow at school."

"That would probably be best" I agreed.

* * *

_-TRUDY-_

So that was it, huh. I thought I had at last had my mission here in the past dropped in my lap – help my dad reconcile with my mom before a stupid fight drives them apart for good (and, incidentally, makes me never exist and thus vanish in a puff of logic), but dear Aunt Phoebe had just put a kibosh on that plan by turning herself into a roadblock, and dad had just decided to go along with it. Frustrating.

With the situation on hold until tomorrow, there was nothing for me to do but wait out the rest of the trip. As the day began to wane, though, a new problem began to loom… the very real problem of where I was going to spend the night while I was stuck in this era. I had only forty-nine bucks to my name, and all of it in 2040s cash… could I pass it off as Canadian? Probably not. And even if I could, what hotel clerk was going to rent a room to a ten-year-old girl?

I could go to a homeless shelter or the park, but those were simply not an option, for one very specific reason; I just plain can't stay in my human form indefinitely. I could hold it for about twelve hours at a time, thirteen if I pushed it, but after that, I needed to let my by body revert so it could rest, For that, I needed absolute privacy.

Come to think of it… there _was_ somewhere I could go here. It wouldn't even be freeloading because, technically, I was family. At least I was going to be, anyway. But it would take some finesse arranging it, and a bit of acting. I spent the last forty-five minutes or so of the daytrip figuring out just how I was going to wrangle it.

When the time finally came to depart, I took out my phone and pretended to call my mom. "Hey, mom! Yeah, we're just about done for the day here. What? *pause* Yeah, mom, don't worry, I have my keys. I should have no problem getting into the house. You guys have fun on your second honeymoon! Bye!"

"Your parents aren't home?" As I had hoped, my conversation had gotten dad's attention. Now that I'd hooked him, I just had to reel him in.

"Yeah," I answered. "They're taking a much-needed vacation in the Bahamas. They haven't had alone time in forever, and it's not really a problem." While I was speaking, I made a show of checking my pockets. "I can mostly take care of myself, as long as I can get into our h- Ohhhh _crap_.".

"What's wrong?" Yep, there was my nibble.

"Oh crap, oh crap, I can't believe this…"

"What? What is it?"

"I think I left my keys at home. Oh god, I am soooo screwed. Mom and dad are never going to trust me to be alone again. I'll be stuck with…." I shuddered, "the _babysitter_…"

"Do you have anywhere else to stay?" he asked.

"Not really, we only recently moved to the city and haven't really gotten acquainted with the neighbors to the point where I could just show up at the door and say "Hi, I'm the Schwartzmans' daughter, can I crash with you tonight?"

Dad mulled for a bit, as if considering something. "Well… I'll have to talk it over with my grandpa… but…"

Yes. It was working.

"…maybe you could stay over at my house tonight."

"Oh, no, I couldn't," I protested. Couldn't look too eager. "We just met, there's no way I could impose on you like this. No, I'll, uh… I'll just break a window or something…"

"No, really, it's not a problem. I live in a boarding house, so my grandparents are used to having guests. You could have dnner with us, stay in one of the rooms that isn't being used…"

I pretended to consider the offer. "Well, I guess I don't exactly have a ton of options on the table now, do I. All right… my folks are gonna be back home by tomorrow evening, so I guess what they don't know won't hurt them. Are you sure your grandpa will be okay with it?"

"Well, I'm sure if I explain to him what the problem is, he'll be glad to let you spend the night."

"If you say so," I said. "Just let me make sure I'm packed." I looked around. "Yep. Let's go."

This had worked out perfectly. Not only had I managed to find a place to stay the night, but as a bonus, I was finally going to get to meet my great-grandparents. At last, I'd be able to put a face to all the years of colorful tales of Phil and Gertie Shortman I'd grown up with.

Maybe… this was why I was here.

Maybe time travel wasn't so terrible.

* * *

_Meanwhile…_

Somewhere in an alley, a frustrated eleven-year-old girl picked up the first of a pile of small rocs she'd spent the last fifteen minutes gathering together. As if concentrating all her hurt and anger into the rock, she flung it with all her might at the waiting dumpster. It struck the receptacle not with a satisfying _clang, _but a disappointing _thunk_.

"Figures they'd switch to plastic," the girl muttered.

She went through her stock anyway, more for something to do than the satisfaction. At least, for the moment, she would be able to keep her mind off her troubles. Eventually, the rocks would run out, though, as would her patience, and she was right back to where she was at the beginning, the load on her heart no less heavy.

Well, vandalism wasn't helping, so it was time for her next go-to method of coping: eating her feelings. She briefly considered Slausen's, but there was too much risk of running into someone she knew there. Ditto seeking out the Jolly-Olly Man; in any case, she was hardly in the mood to deal with his brand of deranged surliness.

She decided instead on a newly-opened Dusk-to-Dawn near the Hillwood docks. Just a few bucks would score her a tray of the greasiest nachos known to man and enough semi-frozen artificially-flavored sugar-water to chill her brain down to the point where she could no longer feel feelings.

And if that didn't work, she could always go back to throwing rocks at something.

Resolved to her current path, the girl trudged out of the alley towards the promise of cheap junk food and a perpetually-stoned clerk who wouldn't notice if she snuck a free refill.

* * *

Across the street, local thug Philly D had just gotten the same mass text that had gone out to every local thug in the area courtesy of the Dark Web. Three photos of preteen children had been transmitted, along with the promise of sizeable cash payouts to anyone who could bring them in. One was familiar, that football-headed kid from the botched stereo job last year. The other two were a black kid with the kind of high-top hairdo that had gone out of style in the late 90s, and a blond girl with a prominent monobrow who looked like she could be the human incarnation of Internet sensation Cranky Feline.

Philly D was a bit torn on the whole situation. Petty thuggery was all well and good, but kidnapping was another thing entirely. Sure, he could use the cash… his landlord was on the verge of kicking him out, he owed money to a number of rather volatile individuals, and then there was his dear sick mother (online gambling addiction was a _kind_ of sickness). But this was a pretty big line to cross.

And then fate dropped the decision right in his lap when he saw Cranky Feline herself stomp past the street corner he was hanging out on.

It'd be easy. She was small. He was big. He could easily handle her. But was he the kind of person who would do that kind of thing? Philly liked to think he wasn't.

His moral quandry barely had time to form when he got a second text. This one was simply from "M". And it, read, simply, "One more day, Philly. Then it's your thumbs."

Philly knew exactly what kind of person he was. He was the kind of person that preferred to keep his thumbs.

Discreetly following the girl (naturally, being seen stalking a kid was not the kind of thing you wanted to be caught doing), Philly dialed the untraceable number included in the text. "Yo, is this 'Prince Pasta'?" he asked. "I got a bead on one of those kids you wanted. The little blonde girl."

"Great," the distorted voice on the other end answered. "Wait 'til she's alone, then grab her. You might need a buddy to help you."

"What, you kiddin' me? You think I need help to bad a little girl?"

"I know this kid. Trust me. You're gonna need a buddy."

* * *

**A.N.: Well, that's an ominous ending. For Philly D, I mean. No way he's gonna have an easy time with Helga. **

**Next up, Trudy meets the gang at the boarding house! Well, she already knows some of them, but you get the idea.**

**Jose: Predestination paradoxes can be a real b****, can they. **

**Cre8tively: Well, ten years of motherhood has mellowed Helga a bit, but some rough edges will never be sanded off.**

**J.A.M.: Indeed. Helga prefers problems she can hit or burn.**

**Penguin Lord: Yep, now let's see how it all plays out.**

**LP: That story is in my previous 'fic "Body Issues", which is kind of a long one.**

**Next up: "Family Meeting"**


	10. Family Meeting

Chapter 10

Family Meeting

_Outside the Sunset Arms_

_-ARNOLD-_

We hadn't been able to talk on the bus ride back from the park, mostly because the bus had been so crowded and noisy that even if one of us had said something, the other wouldn't have heard it. About a half-hour of experiencing the life of a sardine later, we managed to extract ourselves from the vehicle and arrived back at my house.

'Wait out here," I said. "I'm gonna go talk to Grandpa."

"That's cool," she said. "Again, this is really above and beyond the line of duty, considering, y'know, we barely know each other."

"Well, now we'll have a chance to get to know each other better. That's good, right?" Although… on some level, I felt like I knew her already. Somehow.

Was this what it felt like when you met The One? The feeling that you were meeting someone you had known all your life for the first time?

Was this what love at first sight was like?

I found Grandpa in the living room thumbing through the paper. "Evenin', Short Man. Back from a fun and fancy-free outing with all your schoolyard chums, each a fascinating and unique individual with a multilayered personality."

"Yeah, about that… I have this friend who got locked out of their house, so I sorta said I'd ask if you could let them have a spare room for tonight…"

"Sleepover, eh? I don't see why you couldn't let let 'Im sleep in your room…"

"Well, uh, that's the thing… it's… ah… it's a girl."

Grandpa perked. "Oooh, a girl, eh? I knew this day was coming. You know, your pop was quite the ladies' man in his day. I knew someday you'd be following in his footsteps."

"Grandpa…" I protested, "Look, could you please not be weird about this? And, uh… could you let everyone else know not to be weird about this?"

"I dunno, Short Man… asking this crowd to not be weird is a tall order. It's like training a porcupine to make balloon animals. Doesn't matter how much effort you put in, it ain't hapenin'."

"Just… I don't want anyone making a big deal out of this, okay?" I pleaded.

"Mmm-hmm… so, you don't have any kind of interest in this girl at all?"

"Uh…" I felt myself blushing.

"Arnold, let me tell you about the first time I ever brought a girl over to my house. I was so worried my family would make a big deal out of everything and embarrass the heck out of me. I tried every excuse I could to get out of it, but not a one of them worked. In the end, I finally gave up and decided to get it over with."

"And, let me guess. In the end, it turned out that you were worried over nothing and all your fear was just you psyching yourself up over all the terrible things that could happen, but none of them ever did."

"Are you kiddin'? It was the most mortifying experience of my young life! I was so embarrassed I wanted to crawl into the sewer and die! Of course, the girl never spoke to me again. And of course she told all her friends about it, so I didn't have another date 'til I was fifteen. Yep, I was socially ruined for years. Heh heh heh… wait, that's a terrible story. Why am I telling it?"

"You were trying to tell me why I _shouldn't_ be anxious about tonight." I said, rolling my eyes.

"Oh yeah. I'm really bad at this, aren't I Arnold. Oh well, the point, which I have just decided on right now, is it was terrible for me, but maybe it won't be for you."

"I guess. I mean… I suppose there's no way it could be that bad…"

*CRASH*

"JUST SIGN THE DAMN PAPERS, OSKAR!"

"Oh, did I mention that Suzie's here?" Grandpa explained.

I groaned inwardly. Was it possible for a ten-year-old to get an ulcer?

* * *

"Okay," I said, letting Trudy in, "Let me just warn you in advance. Things in here can get a bit… eccentric. If you ever feel the urge to run away screaming, I understand."

"So what you're saying is anything can happen?"

"That's about the size of it, yeah."

"Sounds fun to me," she replied, grinning. "Normal people are boring anyway."

"Well, you won't find a lot of those here, so we should be fine."

I led her into the living room, the first stop on the magical mystery tour that was the Sunset Arms. "Grandpa, I'd like you to meet Trudy Schwartzman. Trudy… this is my Grandpa."

Grandpa looked her over. "…really? Her?" he asked, confused.

"What's wrong?" I asked?

"Well, I was expecting… I assumed… you know what, it isn't important. Welcome to the Sunset Arms, Trudy, where we pride ourselves on keeping everything in perfect condition!" As if to mock him, a piece of plaster fell off the ceiling right between the two of them. "Starting right now," he added. "Now if you'll join me, I'll give you a proper tour. First off, this is the living room, with all the amenities, including places to sit, a coffee table, a TV, and DVR… well, we'll have that once I find out what it is.

He led us into the next room. "This here's our communal dining room. Dinner's at 6PM sharp. The house specialty is 'whatever Pookie's in the mood to make.' Hope you like surprises. _Mostly unpleasant ones_," he added under his breath.

"Avast there!" an elderly voice shouted. Grandma stomped into the room dressed in a pirate outfit complete with fake peg leg and what I assumed was a stuffed parrot (though I'd been fooled before), brandishing what I hoped was a prop cutlass. "It appears we have a stowaway."

"Grandma," I began, hoping to defuse the situation. I personally loved Grandma's antics, but they tended to be very off-putting to those that didn't know her.

"That's Captain Keelhaul to you, cabin boy," she corrected. Eyeing Trudy suspiciously "Now… who be this lubber."

Trudy drew herself up to her full height, looking grandma directly in the eyes (or rather, eye, seeing as one was hidden behind a patch), and replied confidently "I be no lubber, Cap'n. You be speaking to none other than the Crimson Wing, scourge of the Spanish Main."

"Good grief, there's two of 'em now," muttered Grandpa.

Grandma's lips slowly formed into a grin, happy to finally have found someone willing to actually play along. "Aye, I've heard tell of this Crimson Wing… but how do I know ye be she?"

"Perhaps a test of steel," Trudy suggested mischievously, grabbing an errant soup ladle by the bowl, brandishing its handle as her blade. "Unless the fearsome Cap'n Keelhaul be lily-livered at heart."

"A pirate's duel it is, then! Have at it, ya scurvy scalawag!"

The two launched at each other, "blades" clashing noisily.

"Ye fight like a dairy farmer, Crimson Wing," cackled Grandma.

"How appropriate, for ye fight like a _cow_!" retorted Trudy.

"Well, I guess this is happening now, Short Man," Grandpa observed, resigned that shenanigans would be going on for the foreseeable future. His stomach rumbled. "Just as well, seeing as I'll be in my office taking care of urgent business. Finish up the tour for me, and try to keep those two from destroying any more of the house."

"Okay, Grandpa," I said, watching the chaos unfold.

* * *

"People fall at my feet when they see me coming!" declared Trudy with bravado, as she parried Grandma's thrust.

"Must be because they smell your breath," Grandma shot back, dodging one of Trudy's.

_Well, at least they're having fun_, I thought to myself as I caught a vase Grandma knocked over. It had been kind of a surprise. Most friends I brought over were tolerant of Grandma's roleplaying at the maximum; at the worst, they found it unnerving and asked to leave early. In contrast, Trudy had been fully on board from the word go and played along whole-heartedly.

The fight ranged from the dining room through the kitchen and back into the living room while I tried my best to right everything they knocked over and protect anything breakable. Finally, while attempting to back away from one of Grandma's advances, Trudy tripped over an ottoman and found herself lying on her back, Grandma's cutlass at her chest.

"Ar, the battle be yours, Captain," she conceded. "Do with me as ye will."

"Aye, I'd sooner scuttle me own ship than do away with a fine swabbie like ye." She offered her fake hook-hand to Trudy, helping her back to her feet. "Well," she said, breaking character, "that was invigorating, but I'd better get back to the 'galley'. I'll take that 'sword' back if you don't mind, I need it for the soup. Remember, dinner's at six bells!" The old woman exited, a spring I her step.

"That was really nice of you," I said.

"What was?"

"Playing along with her like that. You didn't have to. I know she can be kind of… a lot, but I bet she really appreciated having someone to play off of for once."

"Dude, you've got it all wrong. I played along because it was _fun_. Gr- your grandma's awesome."

"Not everyone thinks so. A lot of people just think she's crazy."

"Then they're idiots. So… are you gonna give me the rest of that tour now?"

* * *

_-TRUDY-_

He spent the next… I don't know how long, really… showing me around the house. The bathroom, laundry room, phone nook with its ancient land line, the back yard with its greenhouse, and the rooftop.

"Cool," I said. "This place is huge! You've got a whole greenhouse and a piano up here and everything."

"Yeah, funny story… it was supposed to go in the living room but we couldn't get it through the door, so we just had it hoisted up here, and that's where it's been ever since."

"So, which of you plays?" I asked, more to make conversation than anything.

"Grandma, mostly, but I can play a little bit." He sat down at the keyboard and started to play. The melody was familiar; it was something my dad sang me whenever I was feeling at my lowest.

_When life gets you down, wearing a frown  
Don't look away, look up  
'Cause memories true, come out of the blue  
You know the way, look up_

I found myself humming the tune out of habit, and just caught myself from singing along to the music. Explaining just how I knew the lyrics to a song that supposedly only he and Great-Grandma knew would've been impossible.

"It's really catchy," I said, sitting down next to him on the piano bench.

"I know, right? My grandma sang it to me one time when I had a really bad day where just about everything that could go wrong did. Now, whenever I'm feeling down, I hum it to myself and, well… sometimes it helps."

"Sometimes?"

"Not always. I have these days when… well…" A cloud briefly rolled over his eyes. "It's really not anything you should be worried about. You barely know me."

_I've known you all my life_, I wanted to say, but it wasn't true. I knew the Arnold Shortman he grew up to be, not the one he is now. Still growing, still forming as a person. "You can tell me whatever you want to about yourself, or not. Whatever makes you comfortable."

"Maybe a little later. Do you play anything?"

"Not really. My mom's friend Lila taught me a few guitar chords when I was younger, but I never really practice or anything."

Dad cocked his head to the side. "Your mom's friend's name is Lila? That's an odd coincidence. I know a Lila."

Ugh, another slip-up. Of course he knew a Lila. It was the same Lila I knew. Of course, back then she was just Lila Sawyer, not the punk-folk superstar known only by her first name she was in my time. _Gotta be more careful, "Schwartzman"._ "Well, you know, odds are two people are gonna have the last name."

"That's true. I know like, five Roberts," he agreed.

"See? Total coincidence."

"I mean… Trudy's just short for Gertrude, isn't it? So you basically have the same name as my grandma."

"Really?" I said, feigning surprise. "How about that. Talk about coincidence, am I right? _Dial it back, Trudy, dial it back… _

He checked his watch. "Almost six," he said. "We should probably be getting back downstairs for dinner."

* * *

We left the roof and made our way back down to the second floor, but this time our path was blocked by two individuals, a bearded, balding man in a shabby suit and a slim, frazzled-looking woman with tangled blond curls.

"…look, Oskar, I don't know how to explain it any simpler. I am _not_ coming back, and that's final," the woman shouted in an exasperated voice

"But Suzie, I can change, see? Look, I am holding the door for you! I am putting your needs first because they are so much more important than my own! Eh-heh-heh-heh-heh!"

Suzie rolled her eyes. "See this is what you do. You make this big show of changing, that _this_ time, you're going to become a better person, _this_ time you're going to start thinking of me, _this_ time everything's going to be better, and for a while, it worked, because I wanted to believe you."

"See, that's good! You want to believe!"

"Sooner or later, belief just isn't enough. I need something solid, and I'm never going to get that with you."

"Sure you are, just give me a chance," Oskar pleaded.

Suzie heaved a sigh. "This was the chance, Oskar. Lana wanted to come with me, but I wanted to give you a chance to sign the papers on your own without getting lawyers involved. Now I see I should've taken her advice."

"Eh, I don't like her, she is a very strange lady. I think she had a crush on Arnold. That's not right."

"That's crazy talk, Oskar. You're just making excuses again. Now, if you're not going to sign the divorce papers, I'm leaving, and when I come back the gloves come off." She turned to leave, noticing us for the first time. "Oh… Arnold." She rubbed the nape of her neck nervously. "You weren't really supposed to see any of that, you know."

"It's okay. I kind of guessed what was going on when you moved out suddenly."

"Well… sorry it was under these circumstances, but it really is nice to see you again. So… who's this?"

"Oh, uh… this is Trudy Schwartzman."

"I see. New friend?"

"Well… maybe…" he said. "She kinda got absorbed into our group at Dino Land today by circumstance, and later it turned out she got herself locked out of her house while her parents were away, so I told her she could stay over with us tonight."

"Wow, isn't that nice of you! So _thoughtful_ and _considerate_," she said, punctuating her sentence with pointed glances at Oskar.

"Is there something in my teeth?" he asked cluelessly.

"Ugh… you'll just never get it, will you. And yes, there is." She turned back to the two of us as Oskar picked his teeth. "Anyway, sorry to drop all this drama in your laps. Have a good evening, and Trudy? Good luck. Don't make the same mistakes I did."

"Good luck with what?" I asked. Everyone had been giving me strange looks. What was up with these people?

* * *

Dinner was a chaotic affair. Dad had told me about this sort of thing, but even the most vivid stories couldn't prepare me for the reality.

"Eat up, me hearties, for tomorrow, we set sail for the treasure of No-Eyed Roger! That treasure be so well-hidden, even he didn't know where it was! He had no eyes, you know." With that, Great-Grandma, still in her pirate guise, slammed a casserole of what looked like random ingredients… possibly clams, maybe corn, what could be cheese and avocado…

"I thought this was going to be soup," Dad commented.

"Expect the unexpected," Great-Grandma replied cryptically, winking at me (though it was hard to tell with the eyepatch.

"Fine by me!" Oskar said, lunging for the food.

"Hey!" a short, balding man with a large nose and suspenders interrupted, shoving Oskar's hand away. "We got a guest here, show a little common courtesy, ya mook!"

"Yes!" added a middle-aged Asian man with a mustache, glasses and a thick accent. "You are… very rude person. You need to learn manners!"

Ernie Potts and Tranh Hyunh. In my day, Mr. Potts owned the junkyard where Akiko and I did our training, and Mr. Hyunh was head chef at Chez Paris, having taken the formerly staid bistro down the path of Southeast-Asian fusion. Two more people I had to pretend I didn't already know.

"It's fine," I said. "Honestly, I'd rather he go first. If he eats it and doesn't die, we'll know it's safe."

Ernie chuckled. "I like this one, Arnold. Much better than that redhead. Nice kid but she was so sweet she gave me cavities."

Dad blushed. "I-it's not like that…"

"Of course it is, he is a very charming boy, and very generous in case a friend might need a loan, eh heh heh heh," added Oskar.

Criminy, was _that_ it? Did they think he and I… ugh, the idea was too gross to even think about! One, he's my dad, two, he's… my dad, three, he's my dad… and so on, and so on, and maybe around 973, there's the fact that he's a boy, and 974 we go right back to "he's my dad"… I had to nip this in the bud.

"Leave him alone," I said. "We have no interest in each other! He's just doing me a favor because he's a really nice guy. Okay? So can we all please drop any talk about that sort of thing?"

There was a long pause, finally broken by Great-Grandpa. "Well, I always like a side of awkwardness with my dinner." That got a chuckle out of me. Great Gramps really was every bit as funny as dad said he was. "Thank you, I'm here all week."

Dinner continued in its cacophonous manner, and I don't know if it was because I actually liked the food or I was just really hungry because I wound up having three helpings of Mystery Pirate Casserole or whatever it was supposed to be. Conversation continued and thankfully, never returned to whether my dad and I were an item…. *shudder*

I was half-listening to an argument over whether Mickey Kaline Sr. or Jr. was the better hitter when I became aware of something brushing against my leg. I looked down at the small pig sniffing at my ankles curiously. "Oh, hey," I said. "You must be Abner." The little porker grunted in recognition of the sound of his name, and looked at me as if trying to place me.

"You know, I don't remember telling you about Abner," Dad said. Ohhh, crap, that's right.

"Oh, uh, Nadine and I were talking about our weird pets and she mentioned yours," I lied.

"Yeah, I guess that makes sense," dad replied.

"I'll say this," I added, giving Abner a scratch behind the ears, "you're no giant lizard, but you're definitely cute." The pig, who had been a bit hesitant to that point, oinked in recognition of my compliment and gave me a nuzzle. "Is he usually this affectionate with strangers?"

"Yeah, but not this quickly," Arnold remarked. "He must really like you."

_Or he senses my relation to his master, _I thought. _It's unlikely, but animals always seem to know more than they should. _"Well, I've always been pretty good with animals," I explained.

* * *

Dinner ended, and after I helped Arnold with the dishes (he'd told me there was no reason I had to but I insisted, given that I was staying and eating for free), Arnold asked whether I wanted to do anything else.

"I think you've wasted enough time on me, today. Besides, you probably have homework, right?"

Arnold slapped his forehead. "That's right! It's been such a crazy day that I almost forgot! Sorry to leave you like this."

"No, it's fine. Just show me which room I'll be in and I'll be out of your hair anyway. I've never met this many new people in one day and I kinda need to decompress, you know?"

I needed more than that. I was already beginning to feel the telltale tingle that reminded me that my body needed to revert back to its natural form. I could put it off for a little while longer, but after about an hour, the tingle would turn to pain, and then the pain would become more intense until the point where I couldn't bear it any longer and would be forced to revert no matter where I was or who I was with. And the longer I put off reverting, the longer I'd be forced to stay in my natural form to recover.

"Sure," dad said, handing over a set of keys. "I think Grandpa had you in Mr. Purdy's old room. He got kicked out for keeping chickens, so it too a while to get the smell out of the room, but I think we finally got it completely aired out."

"All I need is a bed and privacy and I'm set."

"You sure you'll be all right?"

"I'll be fine, dude, You go do your homework."

"Okay," he answered, not entirely convinced but resigned that I had made my choice. "If you need the WiFi password, it's 'raspberries'."

"Thanks, Arnold," I said. "I was just about to ask that." Well, that was something, at least. If I couldn't get 7G in this era, at least I had what passes for this decade's Internet to keep me company.

The tingling was starting to get more pronounced now, so I figured now was as good a time as any; if I did it early enough, I'd only have to "recharge" about an hour or so before I could switch back to human.

I ducked into Room 9 and closed and locked the door tightly behind me. Wouldn't do to have anyone interrupt me in the middle of changing. I undid the small, hidden flaps in my shirt and pants and allowed my body to shift back to (ab)normal, flexing my added limbs after they formed to shake off the stiffness.

Once done, I looked around my new domain It was one of the smaller units, only a single room with a Murphy bed, a small dresser, and a coffee table with a couple of old chairs that only needed slight upholstering. Not the Ritz, but it'd do, for tonight anyway. Tomorrow would be worried about tomorrow.

* * *

_Meanwhile…_

In a storage unit near the docks, Nick Vermicelli nervously hummed _Il Trovatore _to himself, awaiting word from his anonymous contact. It had been hours since he'd started following the Pataki girl, and Nick was beginning to think the guy had chickened out or developed a sudden pang of conscience. Conscience pangs were very inconvenient in this line of work.

There was a thump at the door. "Who's there?" he called, not bothering to get up from the discarded armchair, one of the items he'd furnished the place with.

"Is this Printhe Pathta?" a voice asked.

"Who wants to know?" he answered, suspicious. "What the hell is wrong with you, anyway? You sound like that cat from the old cartoons. The one that was always trying to catch the little yellow bird…"

"That little girl ith a maniac! It took three of uth to get her in the car!"

"Hold on a sec…" Nick rolled up the storage unit's door. "Mama leoni, what the hell happened to you?"

The guy he assumed was "Philly D" stood before him, half his face badly bruised and missing his two front teeth. His friend stood to the side, his eye swollen shut and his face scratched up, clutching a bandaged hand. "That little nutcase bit me, man! She BIT me! I gotta get a rabies shot, man!"

"Oh, knock it off you dumbass, kids ain't got rabies."

"I ain't tho thure about that…" Philly D whined. "You shoulda seen what she did to Donny Z."

Nick glanced at the third guy. "He looks fine to me. Where's the girl?"

Stiffly, and obviously in a tremendous amount of pain, Donny Z led Nick to the trunk of the run-down Chevy. It was shaking ominously.

"Open it," he demanded. As carefully as he could and from as far away as he could, Donny Z opened the trunk, then immediately jumped back, shielding his privates. _Oh, so that's what she did to him…_"Oh… sorry. There'll be a little extra for you for, uh, hazard pay."

"I think one of them popped," whimpered Donny.

Gagged and bound, lying in the trunk, was his old partner's daughter, Hilda or Helen or whatever. She glared up at Nick, shaking with rage. Nick smirked back down at the girl. "Hey, kid, remember me?" The girl responded with a series of what would probably be the most profane words she knew at her tender age, were her mouth unobstructed. "Whoa, whoa, watch the language. You really should behave yourself around your elders, little girl." More muffled outrage. "If I was you, I'd cooperate."

She somehow managed to spit out the gag. "F*** off, Worms***. I'm gonna make your life a living hell."

Nick sneered. "That's Vermicelli. Easy mistake, I know. Anyway, it looks like, like it or not, you're gonna be my guest for the foreseeable future. And, soon enough, your little friends will be joining me."

The girl's anger faltered. "_What_ friends," she spat.

"The football-headed kid, and his friend with the giant hair. Once we get our hands on them, the party can begin."

"N-not that I care, but… what do you want with them, anyway? Especially that stupid football head. Not like you can get a ransom worth crap for that guy." The kid seemed a lot more uncertain right now. Probably realizing what kind of position she was in."

"Oh, this ain't about money, kid. Well… money would be nice, but I hear your dad's business is the toilet anyway. Couldn't happen to a nicer guy."

"Then what _do_ you want?" the girl demanded.

"Payback," Nick replied, grinning. "You three ruined my life, and I wanna make you suffer."

The girl glared. "Remember the beating my dad gave you?"

"Oh, I remember alright. That's why I'm ex-pecially looking forward to getting payback in your case."

"If I ever get out of these ropes, I'll make you _wish_ he finished the job," she finished, glaring unsettlingly.

_Cheez_, Nick thought. _Ol' Big Bob would probably pay for me to keep that one._

* * *

**A.N: Yikes, Helga is in quite a situation. Looks like she definitely didn't make it easy, though. **

**Penguin Lord: Well, now we've seen Trudy at the boarding house and we're not done there yet. Hope you were entertained!**

**J.A.M.: Helga has to let things play out how she remembers it or else things could go wrong. Of course, she could have intervened before that point, unseen… let's see how things go.**

**Cre8tivelyB: Helga's bad at being good when she's trying to be good, but can be very good at being good when she's not trying… ah, the paradoxes of existence. Speaking of, Trudy's so far managed not to contradict herself… the Timey-Wimey ball must be using that paradox-correcting time code from Futurama or something :) As for Prince Pasta, well, it's obvious who he is now.**

**Jose: That sounds like something I would've loved to see.**

**Wonko: Welcome aboard! Thanks for spotting that mistake. I didn't catch it.**

**Next: Well, probably a break. I've got a private commission I promised to work on, and I might be taking a bit of a vacation in the next week or so, so it may be a bit of time before Chapter 11 comes out. When it does, though, look forward to someone discovering Trudy's secret! Who? Let's just say the next chapter will have my oddest POV character yet!**


	11. Rise and Squeal

Chapter 11

Rise and Squeal

_Sunset Arms, 5:30 the next morning_

_-SIR TRUFFLESNIFFER SQUIGGLYTAIL, FIRST OF HIS NAME AND LORD OF ALL HE SURVEYS-_

_(-ABNER-)_

As lord of the manor, it fell to me to keep tabs on all the Arnolds within; that included the Arnolds that my Arnold brought home in his journeys. Most often it was the Arnold with the tall mane, but there were others, the fat loud Arnold, the tall skinny Arnold that seemed to have a beak like a bird, and the small long-snouted Arnold being the most common.

Very rare were the she-Arnolds; there was the one with the strange carrotcolor headtails and the facespots that my Arnold seemed to have a desire for, or the one with the dark mane and applecolor second-hide who had stayed for quite some time; that one didn't seem to like me much. The one I saw most, though, was the she- Arnold that was always lurking about, with the strawcolor mane and flower-color second-hide. I wasn't sure what her intentions to my Arnold was were, but I'm fairly sure she wished to either mate with him or possibly eat him. Perhaps both. I wasn't exactly sure how things worked with Arnolds.

Last night, Arnold had brought yet another she-Arnold home. Naturally, as lord, I had to investigate the newcomer. A precursory examination yielded a most unusual scent. There were hints of not only my own Arnold, but of that strange lurking she-Arnold, and of something else I simply could not put my hoof on. Something… not of this world.

The new, odd she-Arnold seemed pleasant enough, though; she knew the proper place to scratch my head and that I it was her duty to offer me tribute from the flat trough the Arnolds ate from as befit my status as ruler. Still, first impressions could be deceiving and I resolved that that night I would investigate further.

At the moment, the she-Arnold had sealed herself in one of the manor's chambers. Now, the manor had been built long before I had taken possession of it, and the builder was clearly an incompetent one, as it had designed the chamber doors for the Arnolds' strange wiggly forehooves. A terrible oversight, and one I'd be sure to remedy when the time came to do renovations. Nevertheless, as lord, I had access to the secret tunnels that crisscrossed the manor. I wriggled my way into one of them and crawled through until I reached the opening into her chamber.

Upon emerging, I located her discarded second-hide on the floor (as a student of their behavior, I was well-acquainted with the Arnolds' tendency to shed their hides during their sleep-cycles. I could hear the tell-tale snore of a sleeping Arnold nearby on the chambers' bedding. Perhaps if I woke her she would favor her host with another head-scratching?

You can imagine my shock as I crawled up on the bedding not to discover the she-Arnold, but some sort of strange creature that had taken her place! Its hide was applecolor, its mane strawcolor, and it had two extra sets of forelegs, the second a pair of strange misshapen webbed things growing from its back. It had a tail too, though rather than short and curly like a proper one, it was long, straight, and tipped with strawcolor bristles. Small horns jutted from the top of its head as well, and all its feet were tipped with sharp claws.

Had this mysterious beast stolen in during the night and devoured our guest? I still detected her lingering scent in the air, so that seemed the most likely explanation. Though I had known the she-Arnold for but a brief time, I had a fond memory of her head-scratches. No… I would not let this foul crime, one that had taken place in _my_ domain, to go unpunished. The she-Arnold of the unique scent and superior head-scratching would be avenged.

"You there!" I demanded. "Foul beast! What have you done with my guest?" I nudged it with my snout. Certainly, the creature was dangerous, but I am a valiant pig and I fear no beast. 'Face me, you cur!"

The beast stirred, opening its meloncolor eyes, of which it had more than the usual. I was unnerved a bit, but held my ground. "So, you awaken," I said. "What have you done with the she-Arnold that was in my care? I swear, if you have harmed her, your life is forfeit, knave!"

"Abner?" the beast spoke, in the language of the Arnolds. I had yet to master their strange, primitive method of communication, but I could translate some of their squealings, including the one they used to refer to me. Could the beast be intelligent? At least, as intelligent as Arnolds tended to be?

Now that I think about it, the beast's voice sounded very much like the she-Arnold's. Perhaps it was some kind of mimic, like that annoying bird my Arnold had found once.

"How do you know my title, you hideous thing?" I asked again.

"Abner, watz rong?" the thing spoke again. It blinked, looked around, as if confused for a moment. "O… rait," it said, shaking its head. "Dont warree, Abner, itz okei! Itz jost mee! Troodee!"

The monster had made no move to attack… if anything, it seemed as though it was attempting to calm me. Very confusing from something capable of devouring an entire Arnold without leaving a trace. My own Arnold could very well be next! "Stay back!" I warned. "I'll not fall for your tricks, vile fiend!"

"Luk, eil sho yoo!" it spoke, closing its eyes. I backed away a bit, not knowing what to expect, but fearing the worst. The last thing I expected was what I would wind up seeing.

Before my eyes, the creature's lower forelegs were reabsorbed into its torso, as were its tail and its deformed back forelegs. The horns on its head and its strange upper eye vanished, and its applecolor hide faded to ordinary Arnoldcolor.

The she-Arnold had not been devoured… she had been here, all along, no doubt victim of some horrid curse that had twisted her body into the form of a monster. "I… I am sorry," I apologized. "I did not know."

"Si? It wuz mee thah hole taim!" the she-Arnold babbled, giving me a gloriously-perfect head-scratch. I rewarded her with my most presticious boon, a face-lick, in return, and she favored me even further with a belly rub.

"Heer, ail let yoo owt," she said, opening the chamber portal for me. "Nao downt tel ennywun, thiss iz aur seekret!"

"Farewell, poor she-Arnold," I said in reply. "May your curse be lifted someday."

* * *

_-TRUDY-_

It was that blissful moment before waking, that moment where you can't quite remember the crazy situation you're in, and then fate reminds you in the form of a confused and unsettled pig. The creature was squealing and prodding me with his snout, clearly very upset about something. How'd he even gotten in here, anyway?

"Abner?" I asked, yawning. The pig squealed in response, still agitated. "Abner, what's wrong?" What could he be possibly –

I was trying to fend him off with my hands. My four clawed, red-skinned hands. "Oh…. Right." I'm so used to sleeping in my natural form and to everyone knowing I do that I forgot that nobody here was aware of that very important, potentially very surprising, fact. "Don't worry, Abner, it's okay! it's me! Trudy!" Dad always said pigs were smart, right? I was pretty sure he was exaggerating about Abner somehow booking a first-class flight from San Lorenzo to Hillwood that one time, but he was smart enough to recognize voices, right?

Apparently not, as Abner only seemed more confused hearing my voice coming out of my changed body. "Look, I'll show you!" I said. Why not, right? He wasn't gonna be telling anyone. I shifted back into my human form. The pig watched, fascinated. He grunted, almost apologetically, it seemed, and looked back up, hopefully. "See? It was me, the whole time!" I gave him a little scratch on the head and a tummy rub, and he returned an affectionate lick on the face. I honestly thought only dogs did that.

"Here, I'll let you out." I unlocked and opened the door just wide enough for him to get out. "Now don't tell anyone. This is our secret." Abner grunted a goodbye and trotted off, seemingly appeased.

That unexpected wake-up call out of the way, I quickly closed and r-locked the door. Just how had the pig gotten in, anyway? A quick glance over the room revealed the culprit, an uncovered vent in the corner of the room. No doubt there had been a cover once, but it was long on and replaced with a sheet that was no match for the jaws of a curious pig.

Well, the good news was that he'd woken me up early. I'd intended to leave as soon as I could, since the longer I stayed here, the higher the odds were that someone would catch on to my lies and my secrets would be revealed. And that would be bad.

No, it was best I got moving. Being with family was nice, but dangerous.

I quickly dressed, made sure I had what few possessions I had arrived with (Rockin' Rex would have to stay here, but he would be mine eventually anyways), and snuck out as quietly as possible, making a beeline for the door.

"Leavin' so soon, Pecos Jane?"

So close. My hand was literally on the knob.

Great-Grandma Gertrude, her pirate persona discarded for an old-west getup, stood behind me. I had been so intent on getting out of the house I hadn't seen or heard her at all. _Sloppy, Trudy. Sloppy._

"You're up early, Mrs. Shortman," I stammered out, turning back away from the door.

"That's Calamity Pookie to you. And a real cowpoke rises with the dawn." She hitched her pants, cheing on a piece of straw.

"Yep… well, you know how it is… I'm just passin' through these here parts. Headin' west. I hear they struck gold in the hills, and I intend to stake my claim."

"Well, surely you can stay for the mornin' chuck wagon. We got hot wheatcakes and eggs on Texas toast with bacon on the griddle."

"Afraid not, Calamity Pookie… got miles of dusty prairie trail to go before I can rest. Y'see… I got a dangerous past behind me, an' I can't let it catch up with me."

"Well, I can't stop you. Tex is going to be very disappointed. I reckon he's taken quite a shine to you."

"Yeah, well, it's better if he forgets I was ever here."

"That's understandable. After all, he'd probably be horrified if he knew you were his daughter."

I froze.

"Just 'cause the mind likes to wander a bit don't mean it's left for good, you know," she added, dropping character. "I knew something was up right away,"

"I… I don't know what you mean," I lied.

"Sure you do. It's obvious if you know what to look for. Your eyes, for example. They're exactly like Arnold's. Same shape, same color."

"Lots of people have the same color eyes," I protested.

"You have his hair, too. And his nose. But you have her ears, her lips, her profile, and her jawline."

"Her?"

"That girl who's always sneaking in here. The one he's gonna marry someday."

This was getting disturbing. "How could you possibly know who Arnold's going to marry? And besides… how could I be Arnold's daughter? I'm the same age as him!"

"Oh, it may not make much sense, but that's only if your mind isn't open to other possibilities. Like time travel, for instance."

"I… really should get going…"

"As for how I knew…. Well, I always suspected, but I didn't know up until you showed up and confirmed my suspicion. You have the perfect blend of their features. And then there's your name. Trudy. Short for Gertrude. Same as my name. And Schwartzman. It sounds an awful lot like Shortman, doesn't it. Almost as if you realized you couldn't use your real name and had to make up one right there on the spot." She smirked. "From your nervous expression, I'm guessing I hit the nail right on the head, didn't I."

Slowly, I nodded, still in shock that she had so exactly guessed my situation. Dad had always said that he was never really sure just how much of her behavior was real and how much was an act, but I hadn't expected her to be this sharp.

"Well, then… I don't usually like to blend genres, but allow me to be the first to welcome you to the Old West, time traveler!" She shrugged. "Worked for the third Back to the Future, anyway."

"Back to the what?"

"It's not important. So… what brings you to the past, Pecos Jane?"

"I don't…."

"Telling someone the truth will make you feel better. I promise I won't tell anyone. Of course, no one'd believe me if I did." She snickered. "That's the advantage of everyone thinking you're crazy. You can get away with anything."

I chuckled along. "Okay. The truth is, my name _is_ Trudy Shortman. Arnold and Helga _are_ my parents. And I _am_ from the future. 2042, to be exact. I was just enjoying a day out with my friends when I ran into these two randos and they dropped this metal sphere that rolled into my foot and suddenly, here I am, twenty-five years in the past and a threat to my own future existence!"

"Randos, eh?" Pookie asked, rubbing her chin. "Tell me more, Jane."

And so I did, giving her a brief rundown of pretty much everything that had happened to me over the course of the last day, minus anything involving my mutated condition. That I was still keeping under wraps unless I absolutely had to.

"So, you're afraid that your presence has driven a wedge between your two future parents, to the point where you may never be born?"

"That's about the size of it, uh… can I call you gran-gran? Feels about right."

"Of course, dear, whatever feels right to you. Well… from where I'm sitting you look like you still exist. So it looks like you're still in good shape."

"But dad called mom out really bad… and mom made everything worse… and…"

"Honey, I once hung your great-grandpa from a flagpole by his underwear."

"Oh… so what you're saying is, they're still kids and these things blow over."

"Actually, it was just a couple of weeks ago. That'll teach him to replace the toilet paper when he uses it up!" She cackled at the memory. "But yes. These are little things. They'll be forgotten about. You're still proof of that."

Grandma was right. Having someone to talk to was really helping. Suddenly, I wasn't so alone in this time.

"So… the question is," she continued, "where do we go from here?"

"We?"

"Well, I can't just let you fend for yourself in a strange time. As long as you're here, I'll give you any help you need."

"Well, unless you know a time-travel expert…"

"Hmmm… well, I did briefly date Pablo Neruda, but I don't think he counts. No, I'm afraid that's one thing I can't help you with, but I can help you with money and a place to stay until your own people find you."

"You don't have to-"

"Of course I do! You're family. Or at least you will be."

"Well, I don't think I can stay here. Arnold thinks I have a home here, and that I go to a different school…"

"Oh, we'll think of some way around things. In the meantime, you should stay for breakfast. After all, it's a long dusty trail ahead. A cowpoke's gotta keep up her strength."

I giggled. "Okay, gran-gran. I'll stay."

The sun was starting to peak through the windows now, and Great-Grandpa Phil wandered in, scratching his butt. "Mornin', Pookie," he said, yawning. "It's the cowboy act today, I see. Excellent choice. Oh, hey, Trudy, didn't think you'd be up already. Well, breakfast's at 7:30, which should give you plenty of time to get all the gas out of your system before school starts."

"Hey there, Slim," Pookie called. "Just shootin' the breeze with Ol' Pecos Jane here. Did you know she's our great-granddaughter from the future?"

"Hmm, that's nice, Pookie," he said indulgently, grabbing the newspaper. Clearly he was so used to Pookie's flights of fancy that he didn't bat an eye even at the most outlandish things she said. "Now if you'll excuse me, I gotta go see a man about a horse. And that horse really needs to use the bathroom." And with that, he wandered off.

"See, what'd I tell ya?" she said. "You can get away with anything." And the two of us shared a chuckle at our mutual secret.

* * *

**A.N.: Well, I said someone was going to learn her secret, and it turns out two people (well, one person and one pig) did… they just learned two different secrets. **

**Trying to write from Abner's perspective was an interesting exercise. I'm not sure I really pulled it off, and I'll ever try it again, but it was fun.**

**Penguin Lord: Well, Gertie does, at least…**

**J.A.M.: Oh, you'd better believe it.**

**LP: I think that was my first "Grandpa tries to teach a life lesson by telling a story from his past that backfires" scene. I love those. As for Helga, we'll see how she's holding up next chapter.**

**Jose: Even a badass like Helga can be overpowered, especially by three people much bigger than her. At least she left their mark on them.**

**Deep Voice: Oh, yes, it's gonna be reeeeeal awkward if he ever finds out who Trudy really is.**

**Em Pataki: Well, maybe not sidekick, but it looks like they're partners now. And if it was just Philly, yeah, Helga probably would've won… she might have even been able to hold her own against two… but three was too many for her.**

**Next: Okay, NOW I'm taking a break. It'll probably be at least two weeks before the next chapter. When I get back, we'll be seeing how things play out at school with Helga missing, everyone still being pissed at Arnold, and how Grandma and Trudy's alliance plays into things. See you then!**


	12. Absent

Chapter 12

Absent

_Sunset Arms_

_-HEY ARNOLD HEY ARNOLD HEY ARNOLD-_

Once again, I awakened to the sound of my potato-powered clock. I wasn't sure what exactly had compelled me to design the thing in my own image, perhaps a momentary uncharacteristic twinge of narcissism. Whatever it had been, it was hard to imagine a morning where I didn't awaken to its incessant drone of my name. Perhaps some day I'd get a "normal" alarm clock. But probably not an time soon. The clock just had too much sentimental value.

Usually, Abner would come bounding in right about now to give me his usual wake-up service. This morning, though, he trotted in a bit more slowly and hesitantly, grunting ad squealing insistently and tugging at my blanket as if he had something urgent to tell me. "What is it, boy?  
I prompted. Had something happened to someone? I dressed as hurriedly as possible and followed him downstairs, almost afraid of what I'd find.

It turned out I needn't have worried. All we found was my extended family around the breakfast table, including Trudy, who was talking hot sauce with Mr. Hyunh.

"Oh, Abner," I chuckled. "You were just worried we wouldn't make it here before all the bacon was gone, weren't you." I gave him a head-scratch and tossed him a strip which he eagerly snapped up.

Trudy stared, horrified. "Did you just give him… I… I'm not sure how I feel about that."

"It's okay," I said. "It's probably not anyone he knows."

"I don't think that's how it works!" Trudy protested.

"Look, I know it's weird, but he likes it, and I really can't say no to the guy."

"It's not just me, is it?" she asked. "I'm not the only one a bit disturbed here, am I?"

"No," agreed Oskar. "It's not right. I should be getting that bacon!"

"He's got more right to it than you do, ya chiseler!" declared Grandpa. "Start payin' your rent on time an' we'll talk."

I assembled eggs, bacon, and toast into an easy-to-take-on-the-road stack and shouldered my backpack. "Anyway, I gotta get moving, I have to meet Gerald."

"Yeah, me too," Trudy cut in. "I mean, not Gerald, I mean I have to get going to school, seeing as it's on the other side of the city and all…"

"Oh, if you want, just tell me where your school is and I can give you a ride in the Packard," offered Grandpa.

"Oh, uh, that's really not necessary, but thanks," protested Trudy.

"Oh, hey, it's no trouble at all-"

"No, really, I've taken enough advantage of your hospitality, and an old car like that must be a real pain to fuel up, and besides that the traffic's terrible this time of day. I'm better off taking the bus."

She was about to dash out the door and probably out of my life for good, since it was unlikely I'd run into her again if I hadn't until now. I had to make some sort of move now if I wanted to have any chance of seeing her again.

"Hey," I said, "after school, me and the gang are gonna be playing baseball against the sixth grade over at Gerald field – that's that vacant lot down the street – around 4. I know you're probably going to wanna hang out with your friends from your school, but, I dunno… maybe if you don't have any plans, you can come play with us instead? We could use someone with an arm like yours."

She appeared to mull it for a few moments. "Sure, why not," she agreed. "I don't really have any plans. I'll see you there. Just, uh, bring an extra mitt. I'm still locked out of my house."

"Okay, I'll remember. See you then!" Yes! I might actually get a chance to impress her this time! That was one problem out of the way.

Now, all I had to do was clear the air with Helga.

* * *

Gerald met me on the stoop.

"So, how'd it go with Mystery Girl?" he prompted. "You get anywhere?"

"Actually… it went pretty good. She seemed to get along pretty well with everyone. Especially Grandma for some reason."

"So she didn't run away screaming? Sounds like a good sign t'me. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love all y'all over there, but… all y'all's crazy as heck. So if she can handle a night of that and not need a ride to the funny farm herself, seems like you've got a keeper."

'Yeah… I… I don't know what it is about her, but I just really wanna get to know her."

"You get her digits, man?"

I slapped my forehead. "Aw, shoot… I didn't ask. But I dd ask her to come to the game this afternoon, and she said she'd be there, so, maybe I can ask her then!"

"Thatta boy, Arnold. Stay positive."

"Gee, you're a lot more supportive than you usually are. Usually, you just sorta stand there and make sarcastic comments about what a sick boy I am. You must really think I have a shot this time."

"Actually, I think you're gonna crash and burn. But hey, a wingman's gotta stay positive, even in the face of the overwhelming, I mean really overwhelming, likelihood you're gonna crash an' burn."

"Gee… thanks, Gerald."

"Anytime, man, anytime."

* * *

_PS118_

The halls were a bit louder than usual, this being the day after a long weekend, and a lot of the student body just having come off a day at Dino Land. We were still all a little overstimulated and hadn't been brought back down yet. The grind of school would be doing that soon enough anyway.

Most of the gang had their lockers in the same bank near the fifth grade classroom. I made my way there hoping I'd find Helga and have a chance to apologize.

"…and it was just a hairline fracture, but the doctor said one more broken bone before August, and I get a free T-shirt! I don't know about you, but I like those odds!"

"Dare to dream, Eugene, dare to dream," quipped Gerald as we arrived.

"Has anyone seen Helga?" I asked, hoping to get the whole thing out of the way quickly.

"It seems she's running late," Phoebe answered uncertainly. "I attempted to call her last to ascertain whether her mood had recovered, but unfortunately, her phone service was disconnected. Most likely a bureaucratic oversight," she clarified, unconvincingly. We decided to let it drop; rumor had it the Pataki's financial fortunes had taken a downward turn, but Helga hadn't been forthcoming with details to anyone except Phoebe, and she was clearly covering for her out of obligation.

"Well, I hope she shows up soon, because I really need to apologize to her for the way I acted yesterday."

"I hope so too," agreed Rhonda. "The sooner you do that, the sooner I can stop feeling bad for her."

"You're all heart, Rhonda," Gerald remarked.

"She just had this… completely heartbroken look in her eyes… this feeling of utter betrayal… Nadine, how the heck do I turn this off?"

"I told you, Rhonda, it's compassion and it doesn't turn off."

"But it's for Helga, Nadine. _Helga_. It doesn't feel right. I hate it. Fix it, Nadine, fix it."

"I think your compassion is very attractive, my beloved!" Curly gushed, glomping Rhonda from behind. Where he had come from, I had no idea; I hadn't seen him at all until the second he'd appeared!"

"AGGGH! GET IT OFF GET IT OFF GET IT OFF GET IT OFF GET IT OFF!" screamed Rhonda, failing about, her ambivalence over her feelings of compassion forgotten du to the more pressing matter of her personal space being invaded.

"Sorry I missed you at Dino Land yesterday," he said. "On account of my lifetime ban and all. Or was it Wankyland I'm banned from? Maybe it's both. I'm banned from a lot of places. Anyway, I can make up for it by spending the entire day with you!"

"WHY ISN'T ANYONE GETTING IT OFF?!" demanded Rhonda, attempting to shake off her admirer. Nadine and Sheena finally managed to pry him loose as the bell rang.

"We'll continue at recess, darling!" he promised/threatened as he was dragged into class.

"Is it too late to transfer to Packenham's class?" whispered Rhonda.

"Probably," I answered, "seeing as how there's only a little more than a month left to the year."

"Maybe if I claim mental trauma…" she reasoned.

* * *

The day dragged on in the usual way, math, recess, science, lunch, history, English, as it did every day. I hoped Helga would show up at some point so I could finally get this guilt off my conscience, but she never did. It nagged at me, the thought that I'd managed to wound her emotionally to such an extent that she couldn't even face anyone the next day. I'd never really thought of myself as capable of such a thing, and there was still a chance that it wasn't my fault at all, that she was just sick, but if it _had_ been my fault…

The thoughts reverberated in my head all day, and it was impossible to concentrate on anything that was happening, until at last, the final bell of the day rang. I was still feeling dejected that I hadn't managed to square things with Helga, but on the bright side, I'd be seeing Trudy again very soon. That is, if she really intended to keep our appointment at Gerald Field. There was the chance that she would forget all about it upon reuniting with her regular friends, but I had to look on the bright side. Soon, very soon, I would be seeing that slightly crooked grin and that shaggy golden hair that hung over one of her sea-green eyes and wow, I was really losing it fast.

"All right, people, that's it for today," Mr. Simmons concluded. "Oh, before I go, could one of you please take Helga her homework assignment for tonight?"

"Mr. Simmons?" I asked. "Did you happen to hear what was wrong with her?"

"Oh, uh… no, actually, neither of her parents contacted the school. I suppose they were unable to do so due to unknown circumstances." Yeah, right. More likely they just couldn't be bothered. Given what I knew about the Patakis, it was entirely possible that neither would've even been aware that Helga had skipped school.

"Anyway, if I could have a volunteer," continued Mr. Simmons.

"I'll do it, Mr. Simmons," I said.

"Thank you Arnold, that's very kind of you. I must say, I appreciate your ever-present cooperative spirit.

"Actually, Mr. Simmons," interrupted Phoebe, "perhaps it would be best if I did it instead."

"Well, it, uh, really doesn't matter which of you does it, I just need a volunteer. Though I'm certainly grateful that both of you are so eager to volunteer for this assignment…"

"Please, Arnold… it really would be better if I took care of it," insisted Phoebe. The message was unspoken, but clear: _Don't try to force things. She needs to work this out on her own before she's ready to talk to you._

"All right," I said. "Maybe if she's feeling better, you can talk her into joining us at the game."

"I can't make any promises, but I'll try," assured Phoebe, exiting the classroom with the rest of the gang.

* * *

_-PHOEBE-_

Okay, so "giving Helga space" wasn't the real reason I wanted to keep Arnold from volunteering to take Helga her homework. I was actually motivated by something completely different.

That motivation was the same one that prompted me to get out of the school as fast as possible, so that no one would see which direction I was headed.

I had thought I had made a clean getaway, but a couple of blocks from school I became aware that someone was following me. "All right, show yourself!" I said, whirling into a fighting stance. "Be aware though, I am proficient in several means of self-defense, ironically none of which are of Japanese origin!"

"Whoa! Easy, girl!" My follower stepped into view, immediately identifiable by red hoodie and unique hairstyle.

"Gerald?"

"…Hi," he said with uncharacteristic bashfulness. "I didn't mean to be so sneaky, I just kinda wanted to see if you wanted some company."

"Well…" I rubbed the back of my neck nervously, "it's not that I wouldn't welcome the company, but… I'd really prefer to take care of this task on my own."

"Oh, sure, sure," he said, trying to play off his disappointment as nonchalance. "I understand. I'll just g-" He stopped. Uh oh. It looked like he was realizing something. Please, please, don't be what I think it's going to be….

"Wait, isn't Helga's house back the other way?"

Damn it.

"Um, well… you see, due to the curvature of the Earth, it's actually faster if I go this way…"

His eyes narrowed. "Phoebe… what's going on here?"

"I… I can't say."

"C'mon, girl… there's clearly something you want to tell me…"

"It's not my choice! You don't understand, if she ever found out I told you about this, she'd never forgive me!"

"So this is something about Helga that I'm not supposed to know, huh?

I looked away. "I've already said too much, Gerald. Please… just go."

"Look… I'm gonna find out. I could get the truth from you, or I could get it from Fuzzy Slippers. But I'd much rather get it from you."

I was silent. Torn between betraying my best friend and rejecting the boy I l… ike a lot. A dilemma worthy of Shakespeare or at least daytime soap operas.

"I promise I won't tell anyone."

I gave him a pointed look. "Not even Arnold. ESPECIALLY not Arnold."

"Why Ar-" I gave him a glare. "All right, I promise."

"..come with me."

* * *

We walked on in silence, until we reached our destination.

"Hey… isn't that Bob's Beepers?"

"Affirmative."

"I heard it wasn't doing so well. That's… kinda why I've been going a little more easy on Helga lately."

"Well… it's… actually a lot worse than you think, Gerald. Now, stay out of sight."

I entered the Beeper Emporium while Gerald waited outside, the doors dinging to alert the proprietor to my presence. Big Bob had likely been in his office watching his "stories", as he was wont to do, but the ding snapped him to attention. He blustered out, yelling "MIRIAM! We've got a customer! Look alive!" An incoherent mumble answered from the break room, but otherwise no activity accompanied it. "Criminy, do I have to do everything around here?" He turned toward the entrance. "Welcome to Bob's Beeper E- oh, it's just you. OLGA! Your little friend Fanny is here!"

"Phoebe, sir. I'm here to drop off her homework and see how she's feeling."

"Huh? Why would you need to do that for?"

"Well, sir, she failed to show up at school today, so I assumed she was experiencing some kind of illness." Or faking one. Not that you'd notice, you bloviating troll…

"She didn't show up at school? Then she should've been helping out around here! Typical… she probably went off to sulk somewhere. I never had these kind of problems with the first Olga…"

Well, good to know you have your priorities in order. "Well.. when she comes back, I'm leaving her homework assignments here on the display case."

"Yeah, yeah… now, if you're not gonna buy something, get out. This is a beeper store, not a social club."

"With all due respect, Mr. Pataki, you can take your beeper store and cram it as far up your anal orifice as the laws of physics will allow it to fit. Quite honestly, your treatment of Helga is absolutely appalling and if my best friend wasn't affected, I would say that your current difficulties are merely the well-deserved karmic payback of a just universe!"

…is what I wish I was able to say, but, curse my polite upbringing, I simply could not. I instead responded with a meek "Yes, sir," and departed.

…well, in my defense, he is _very_ large and intimidating.

I rejoined Gerald outside. "She's not home. I think she may have cut school."

"Wait… are you sayin' she's _livin'_ here?"

I sighed. Well, there was no going back now. "The bank seized the house last month. Helga's family had to move into the beeper store."

"Man…" Gerald said sympathetically. "I gotta say, she's never been my favorite person in the world, but I never wanted anything like this to happen."

"Gerald. Promise me _you will not treat Helga any differently._"

"Why wo-"

"_Promise me!_ If you started being any nicer to her, she would know something was up! She'd probably figure out it was me who told you, and then…"

"Fine, I won't."

"And I know you already promised, but don't you _dare_ tell Arnold."

"I won't! But why is it so important that I don't specifically tell him?"

Because Helga is consumed by an all encompassing passion for him, but her pride is so important to her that, while Arnold's attention would be devoured by her as if it was the manna of heaven, his pity would be worse than a barbed, poisoned dagger thrust into her heart. "Because you know Arnold, he'd pity her, and Helga hates to be pitied." There. Close enough to the truth, but without any truly embarrassing details.

"Fine. So… now what? Wanna head to the game?"

"…actually, I'm a little worried. I know Helga can take care of herself, but I want to check some of her hangouts, see if she's all right. You go on ahead."

"Well, all right… but at least you know you have someone to talk to."

"Yeah…" Having someone to confide in did help a bit. I just hoped Helga wouldn't find out.

* * *

**A.N.: Well, this was going to be longer, but I'm about to take another extended break for personal reasons (yeah, it's been… **_**that**_** kind of year) and I wanted to at least get **_**something**_** up.**

**Thanks to everyone who's read and reviewed, sorry no personal responses this time.**


	13. Helga Alone

Chapter 12a

**A.N.: 12a? Yes… because this scene was originally going to be in Chapter 12 before I had to cut it short. I could've moved on to chapter 13, but I didn't want to leave Helga hanging, so you guys get this short mini-chapter before I move on with the story.**

_Ansolabehere Brothers Self-Storage, Unit 21A_

_-HELGA-_

"Well, Helga, here's another fine mess you've gotten yourself into."

Okay. So, maybe that's not a fair assessment. After all, it hadn't been my plan to get myself kidnapped by my dad's ex-business partner. Actually, I really didn't have a plan beyond "eat my feelings and mope". But if I hadn't decided to storm off to the crappy side of town to hide my shame after my little meltdown at Dino Land, I wouldn't have been in prime position to get grabbed by Vermicelli's mooks. So I guess that, at least, is on me.

Now, here I sat, in this storage locker, tied to an old folding chair. A 40-watt bulb my only illumination. My only companions all night have been the various unmarked boxes stacked around the place… those, and my darker emotions. But those are pretty familiar companions at this point.

Luckily for me, I can pretty much fall asleep anywhere, and have. If I can handle a night in the recesses behind Arnold's fold-out couch, being tied to a chair in a dusty storage locker is a piece of cake. At least asleep, all I have to deal with is bad dreams, and I'm used to those. I slept through the whole night, not that I really could tell, being that no natural light made its way into the enclosure. I had no way of knowing whether it was day- or nighttime until the dirtbag himself arrived, rolling the door open (he'd had the good sense to stash my chair behind a stack of boxes so I couldn't be seen from outside).

"Hey!" I yelled. "I'm a prisoner in here! Someone get me out!"

"Save yer voice, blondie. Y'think I'd open the door if anyone was around? Here. Breakfast time, kid," he said, tossing an Egg O'Biscuit from O'Riley's in my lap. Which is actually better than what I usually got for breakfast, which was "whatever I can scrounge up." There was one serious problem, however.

"Hey, genius…. How the heck am I supposed to eat this with my hands tied behind my back? You better untie me."

"I ain't stupid, kid… I know that's exactly what you want."

"Well, then, you're gonna have to feed me."

"So you can bite my fingers? No chance, doll. Bad enough I had to be your bathroom attendant last night." He shuddered. By "bathroom" he meant an old coffee can.

"Well, figure something out, cause if you don't want your kidnapping rap to turn into manslaughter, you better keep me fed."

"Who says I'm getting' caught?"

"Hey, you can't be too reckless. You never know how they'll getcha. They got Capone for tax evasion. They could nail you for jaywalking. You never know."

"Uggghh… you make a good point."

"Yeah, I know, I'd make an amazing criminal." _Make_? I've already committed Grand Theft Cap, attempted parrotcide, and multiple accounts of breaking and entering. I _am_ an awesome criminal.

"Tell ya what… let's tie your hands in front instead of behind. Oh, and don't even think of trying anything. I'm ready for whatever you try to pull, sweetheart."

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it," I replied in my most innocent, Lila-est tone of voice. Pfft, right, like I'm gonna listen to you, sleazeball. All I had to do was wait for him to loosen the ropes and then it was go time.

"You better not, " he reiterated, loosening the ropes just a bit.

And then I sprung into action!

…well, no. Turns out when you're stuck in one position for a long time, your muscles cramp up if you even try to make a sudden move. All I could do was scowl as he moved my arms in front of me and re-tightened the ropes. "There," he said. "Don't say I never did nothin' for you."

"Yeah, you're a regular philanthropist," I said unwrapping my sandwich. It was cold and greasy, but still the best breakfast I've had all week. How pathetic is that? "What, no coffee?"

"The last thing I need is to collect your pee _more_ often. You'll get a drink later today. For now be glad you get that. I still have no idea how much I'm gonna get for you. Now, that football-headed kid… they love him. The whole neighborhood'll scrape together whatever they have to get _him_ back. You're just along because it'll piss Big Bob off."

"You never had a real plan, did you," I said. "This whole thing is some kinda half-assed revenge scheme because we got you sent to jail. But you don't have the stones to actually do us in, so you decided at the last minute to turn this into a ransom job. That's it, isn't it? You don't have the stomach to get violent."

He turned toward me, a chilling glare on his face. "You never know, kid… you keep talkin' back to me an' it might turn out I got plenty of stomach. Get my meaning?"

I gulped, my bravado suddenly shriveling up. "Got it," I said.

"Good. Now, I still gotta get your two little friends, so… don't you go anywhere," he said, exiting.

I waited until he was gone. Once he was, I instinctively found myself reaching for my locket. Sadly, while I could reach the chain, the ropes prevented me from actually pulling it from beneath my dress.

"Oh, cruel fate…" I proclaimed. "Now, in this, my most desperate hour, I am bereft of my most valuable comfort. Oh blessed totem, symbol of my unquenchable passion, yet denied to me, kept from my grasp by a mere cord of braided nylon. Would that I could hold you in my hands and shout my love to the heavens once more in this most secluded of places! And yet… it is _because_ of my compulsion to only express my true self in seclusion, my complete inability to be honest with myself in the public eye, that I am condemned to such a fate. Oh, if only I could be face to face with you, Arnold… if only I could transmute the raw emotion in my soul into the words that expressed my desire… well, let's face it, I'd probably scare the bejeebers out of you, but at least I wouldn't be tied up in a storage locker right now.

"No. No more. From the moment forth, I solemnly vow that I, Helga G. Pataki, will henceforth no longer be a slave to my roiling emotions. I shall march right up to my oval-pated Adonis and tell him… tell him… and Brainy NOW."

I listened for the tell-tale wheeze, but was answered only by silence. Figures. The one time I actually _want_ him to show up he isn't here. Whatever mystical force it was that summoned him to intrude on my most intimate moments, no matter how improbable it would be for him to be there, was clearly not functioning.

"Maybe it only works when I can bop him" I said to no one.

* * *

**A.N.: Yeah, this whole scene pretty much exists for that gag.**

**J.A.M.: Trudy's feeling a bit less uneasy now that Grandma knows about her and has decided the risks are worth schooling some sixth-graders at baseball.**

**Deep Voice: Phoebe's savage side comes out very rarely but it's there.**

**Jose: Thanks, I should be back on track after this.**

**LP: Phoebe's my second favorite character after Rhonda but she's kinda hard to write, so I'm glad you think I'm doing well.**

**Next: Back to full-length chapters for "Striking Out".**


	14. Striking Out

A.N.: Check out a new fan art on LP Luna Phantom's DA page! For the first time ever, Trudy has a face! Go there now! Then you can read the chapter. I'll wait.

Chapter 13

Striking Out

_Gerald Field, 3:58 PM_

_-TRUDY-_

In the year I came from, Gerald Field is an official city park. It was one of the first things my mom pushed through when she got elected to the city council a couple of years ago, officially to prevent yet another chain store from gobbling up the location to cough up yet another unneeded franchise location (there were already four dozen Moonpennys in Hillwood, no one really needed another) but mostly out of nostalgia for the hours she and her friends spent there.

These days, though, it was still just a vacant lot that had been repurposed into a baseball field or whatever else kids wanted to use it for. In its days, it had been a soccer field, a roller hockey field, and on snowy days, a staging ground for snowball fights. Today, however, it was being used for its intended purpose.

After Arnold had left for school and the boarders for work, I'd snuck back into the boarding house and spent the rest of the day helping Great-Grandma and shooting the breeze. Grandpa was out most of the day on errands, anyway so for the most part it was a safe place to be.

When the time came, I made my way over to Gerald Field, where most of the fifth and sixth grade had already gathered. Dad and Uncle Gerald were already in the midst of trash-talking the sixth-grade team captains, a massive boy with a dark-blond mullet in a green T with a cobra logo, and his even bulkier companion, who had short brown hair and a sleeveless black shirt with a lightning bolt emblem.

"It's almost time, Football-Face, and you're still one short." the later warned. "If you don't have a full team by then, you forfeit like the fifth-grade losers you are.

"We'll have a team, Ludwig," Dad said defiantly.

"Do we?" Gerald asked uncertainly. "Eugene's got that broken leg, Curly's got ballet practice, Iggy had his cousin's quinceañera, and Helga still hasn't shown up."

"Yeah, but we've still got- hey, there she is!" He called out. "Over here, Trudy."

The mullet guy looked me over. "I've never seen you before," he said. "Do you even go to our school?" Technically I _did_ (well, _would_), but that wasn't compatible with my cover story.

"Trudy Schwartzman, PS121," I said, arms crossed. I could offer a handshake, but these two didn't look like the friendly type.

"You mean you're not in their class?" Mullet asked. "Trying to sneak in a ringer, dorks? Sounds like an automatic forfeit to me."

"It's fifth graders vs. sixth graders, Wolfgang," Dad pointed out. "No one ever said we all had to be in the _same_ fifth grade." He looked up at Wolfgang. "Of course, you could still demand we forfeit… if you think you big strong sixth graders can't take us wussy fifth graders in a fair game."

"He's got you there, Wolfgang," a lanky sixth-grader with a blond bowl-cut hairdo commented.

Wolfgang? This colossal jerk was that colossal jerk Sebastian's fath- oh wait, yeah, that actually made total sense.

"Shut it, Edmund," Wolfgang growled.

"I'm just saying, it kinda makes us look bad if we try to back out on a technicality."

"I know, but you don't have to say it out loud!" He groaned. "Fine. You can have the ugly chick. We'll still kick your butts."

"UGLY?" Ugh, calm down, Trudy. Not worth it. Focus on humiliating them on the field. Besides, if you hit him, you'll just turn him into a dictator or something.

"Okay," Arnold said. "We've been here before. They're bigger and meaner, but we're smarter."

"That's debatable," Rhonda said, eyeing Harold, who had somehow managed to tie his shoes together.

"Besides, we've played these guys like a billion times," Sid added. "They've seen everything we've got by now."

"Not true," Arnold said. "They've never seen our new pitcher."

"Hey, what do you mean, 'new pitcher?'" complained Harold. "That's my job!"

"You're going to be the catcher this time," Arnold said. "Trudy'll be our pitcher."

The rest of the group looked skeptical. "Um, you sure about this, Arnold?" asked Gerald. "Not to doubt your judgement, but how do we know she can pitch?"

"Yeah," echoed Stinky, "not to be a Doubtin' Thomas or nothin', but ain't none of us known Trudy more'n a day, and we ain't got nothin' but your word that she's any good."

"I haven't met her at all," a tall girl with long brown hair and a flower-logo shirt cut in. "She seems very nice though!" she added sweetly.

"I'm telling you guys, she's the real deal. She pitches for the PS121 team. I've seen her fastball, and it's amazing."

"If she's so great, then let's see her prove it." Sid demanded.

"Yeah! Let's see her prove it!" repeated Harold.

"She probably can't… on account'a girls ain't good at pitchin'."

"Hey!" Rhonda, Nadine and the brown-haired girl retorted in unison.

"No offense… It's just one'a them biological facts."

"Get me a ball," I demanded. Deep down, I knew I shouldn't take the bait, but the Pataki in me absolutely, positively would not back down from a challenge.

"Here," Nadine offered. "Strike him out for me."

"Me too," the brown haired girl added. "I'm Sheena, by the way! It's really nice to meet you!"

Stinky picked up a bat and too a stance. "Look, all's I'm sayin' is…"

I wound up and…

* * *

_-ARNOLD-_

The fastball streaked by Stinky before the gangly boy could even react, thudding against the rear wall.

"Hey! I weren't ready!" he complained.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Trudy replied innocently as the ball was tossed back to her. "Would you like to try again?"

"You got lucky one time, but I bet you won't again," Stinky shot back.

She threw four more pitches… two more fastballs, a slider, and a curve. Stinky failed to hit a single one.

"Boy howdy," Sid remarked. "She's pretty good for a girl."

"For a girl?" Gerald corrected. "She's pretty good period."

Stinky set his bat down. "Well… my Grandpa Stinky always said, when you been bested, you should man up an' admit it. I reckon you done just served me a big ol' slice o' humble pie with a scoop o' humiliation ice cream on the side." He offered Trudy an apologetic handshake.

"No hard feelings," she said, accepting it. "I'm saving my aggression for the sixth graders,"

I felt more than a little pride that Trudy had managed to win over the group. "Okay, everyone… are we ready?"

They just stood there. "Helga usually tells us what positions we're playing. And we all go along with it because we're scared of her," explained Sid.

"Sorry. Uh, I guess I'll take first base, Gerald's at second, Nadine's at shortstop, Stinky's got third, Sheena's got right field, Rhonda's at center, Sid's got left, and Harold's at catcher."

"Aw, I hate being catcher," Harold groused.

"Fine, I'll be the catcher, I don't really care," I conceded. "Okay, on three, go!"

We all did that thing where we put our hands in the middle and break… is there a word for that? Feels like there should be a word for that… and took our positions.

Trudy's pitching proved to be everything I'd advertised. She held the sixth graders to only two hits over five innings, neither of which they had been able to convert into runs. Unfortunately, her pitching was only half of the deal. To actually beat the sixth graders, my team had to score, and Wolfgang's team managed to thwart every opportunity we had. If we weren't striking out, we were hitting into double-plays or knocking out easily-caught pop flies. This was not our day.

My thoughts drifted to the missing Helga. If she was here she'd be haranguing the rest of the team every time they screwed up. I always thought that her bad attitude was a drain on the team, but we were playing no better without her. Actually… in a way, maybe she was the one who motivated us, if only out of a desire to prove her wrong.

It was starting to get late as we rolled into the top of the sixth inning. It looked like things were going to continue the way they were going as Trudy struck out the first two sixth graders. Things were going well… if she held up, we'd at least wind up in a tie. There was no shame in tying. _Shows what you know, Football-Head, _Helga's voice replied in his head._ Tying just means we're both losers. _I chuckled a bit. Yeah, Helga was mean, but… she was also kinda funny and insightful, too, in a way.

Hopefully she'd get out of whatever solitary funk she was in soon and I'd be able to finally square things with her.

Wolfgang was now lumbering to the plate, a smirk plastered on his face.

"Hey, Arnold!" He called. "I'm impressed. That's some pitcher you have there."

"Really?" This was weird. Wolfgang wasn't exactly one to casually toss out compliments.

"Yeah. You actually managed to find a girl uglier than Pataki," he sneered. The sixth graders all found this hilarious and laughed as though Buddy Love himself had just shown up in person and gone as coconuts as humanly possible. Trudy scowled back at him, a white-knuckled grip on the ball.

"Take that back, Wolfgang," I growled.

"Oh, what's the matter, is she your new girlfriend?"

"N-no, she's just-"

"Oh, I see," His smirk somehow got even more smug. "She'd have to be a girl for that."

"Heh, yeah," added Edmund, "'cause she dresses and acts like a boy and stuff…"

"Shut up, you idiot," Wolfgang spat at his sidekick, punching him in the side. "The joke's not funny if you explain it!"

He stepped back up to bat. "C'mon, Butterface," he demanded, "let's get this over with."

Trudy wound up, but the insults seemed to have rattled her, because her pitch was far outside.

"It's okay," I said, tossing the ball back. "You can do this."

"That's right, Arnold," Wolfgang jeered. "You encourage that boyfriend of yours."

Trudy threw again, but this time the ball was low and inside. Wolfgang's catcalls were really doing a number on her.

"Huh, maybe I was wrong," he taunted. "Maybe you _are_ a girl after all. You sure throw like one!"

"I'll show you how a girl throws," Trudy shot back through gritted teeth, and fired one straight down the middle.

Which, it immediately became clear, was exactly what Wolfgang was hoping for. He connected, solidly, knocking the ball deep out over Sheena's head and into the street for a home run.

"Don't worry, guys," I encouraged, as Wolfgang smugly trotted around the bases, even taking the home stretch backwards just to rub it in. "We can get it back. The game's not over yet."

But it was not to be. The next guy grounded out to third, and then for our final at-bat, Sid, Nadine and Stinky all struck out in a row. We had lost. And Trudy was taking it the hardest of all.

"Sorry, guys," she said, head hanging. "I blew it."

"It's fine," I said. "It's just a game. It's not like it really meant anything. We lose to these guys all the time."

"Yeah, but you guys put your trust in me, and I let you all down. I let that big guy push me into losing my temper and I blew the game for everyone."

"Actually, we usually lose by a lot more," Gerald remarked.

"Yeah," agreed Sheena. "Even when we win, they usually score a lot higher than today. You're kind of the best pitcher we've ever had."

"And don't let the ugly comments get you down either," Rhonda assured. "You just have terrible taste in clothes and need to learn what a comb is." Nadine elbowed her. "What? I'm being nice."

"The point is," I said, "you did your best."

"I guess," she said. "I just really wanted to impress y- everyone." She had quickly corrected herself, but he had caught her original intention. _Me. She wanted to impress me._

"You did," I assured her. "Hey… the Jolly Olly Man makes his last run right around now. If we hurry, we can catch him."

"I could eat," Harold said.

"There's a shocker," Gerald snarked, eyes rolling.

* * *

We caught up with the Jolly Olly Man's truck about a block away from Gerald field. He was in his usual surly mood, made worse by the fact that were it not for us, he'd be on his way home.

"Ughh… lousy kids…" he mumbled "Someday a rain will come and wash you filthy vermin from the streets. And on that day-"

Sid looked nervous. "Uh, maybe we should skip this, he seems extra-creepy today."

"No, wait, don't go! Without you I'll miss my sales quota three days in a row!" He forced his lips into an unnerving grin. "What can I get you br- fine children today?"

"I don't know… I didn't really factor ice cream money into today. Maybe I should just go home," Trudy said.

"Don't worry about it," I said, intending to treat her. It was going to cut into my allowance, but she was worth it.

"I reckon we should all chip in for her," Stinky added. "I know I will, on account o' makin' amends for my unseemly male chauvinism earlier."

"That seems fair," agreed Rhonda. "I did make fun of your hair."

"I guess I could make due with only five Mr. Fudgies for one day," Harold conceded.

"I shouldn't be eating ice cream anyway, I'm lactose intolerant," Nadine added.

"But don't you usually get-" Sid began to ask before Nadine shushed him.

"Okay, far be it from me to turn down free ice cream. Uh… you got any of those chocolate covered bubble-gum cones?"

"Yeah, I got chocolate-covered bubble-gum cones," the vendor grumbled. "Dunno why I still bother to carry those, only one other kid ever buys 'em…"

I knew exactly who he was talking about. Those bubble-gum cones were Helga's favorite. Kind of a weird coincidence that they were Trudy's too. She even kinda looked the same when she was eating, the chocolate messing up her lips…

….no, that was probably just my guilty conscience intruding on me again. This whole Helga thing had me all turned around, and I had a feeling I wasn't going to get anywhere with Trudy until I got Helga off my mind.

As we ate and talked about the game, I noticed Gerald squinting off into the distance. "What's the matter?" I asked.

"I think I see… Hey! Phoebe! Over here!" he yelled, waving his arms. I suddenly realized that I hadn't seen her at all since the end of school. While she didn't really participate in our games, she usually would at least stick around to cheer us on.

Phoebe, spotting us, came hurrying over.

"Did you find Helga?" Gerald asked. I guess he hadn't gotten over his sudden empathy for our tormentor yet.

"I'm afraid not," Phoebe replied. "I checked all her usual hangouts… the arcade, the convenience stores, the docks, that dumpster she likes to throw rocks at, the comic store… she must really not want to be found. Either that or…" She shook her head, as if she didn't want to pursue that line of thought. Great, as if I didn't already feel bad enough about this.

"I'm sure she's fine," Gerald assured her. "Don't worry about it. You, uh… you want half my popsicle? Sorry you missed the Jolly Olly Man…"

"No, I try to avoid extra-caloric intake this close to mealtime…" she said, glancing around. "Oh… _she's_ here," she said with a bit of distaste.

"Yeah, Arnold invited her. Turns out she's a real good pitcher." Gerald explained.

"Well, I suppose she was honest about that, at least," Phoebe said.

My eyes narrowed. "Is there something you want to tell us?" I asked, irritated at her caginess.

"Over there," she whispered, pointing to an out of the way alley. "I don't need her overhearing us." She dragged us behind the alley's dumpster.

"All right," I said. "I'm listening now. What exactly is your sudden problem with Trudy?"

"Okay, look," she began. "I've been worried about Helga all day, so I almost forgot about it, but something was bothering about Trudy. I couldn't put my finger on it, but then I realized what it was…. There _is_ no PS121 in Hillwood."

My eyes widened. "Maybe we just heard her wrong?"

"I considered the possibility, so I hacked my way into the state's school records. There is absolutely no record of a Gertrude Schwartzman enrolled in the Washington public school system.

"Maybe you spelled it wrong," suggested Arnold hopefully.

"I tried fifteen different spelling variations of 'Schwartzman'. All of them came up negative. In fact… even after a wider search, the only record I found of a Gertrude Schwartzman was a death certificate filed in Spokane three years ago. And I'm fairly certain our Trudy is _not_ a dead 93-year-old woman."

"Are you saying she's some kind of ghost?" Gerald asked sardonically, an eyebrow raised. "'Cause I'm pretty sure ghosts don't eat ice cream."

"More likely she's using a pseudonym."

"A what?"

"A fake name. For whatever reason, she's hiding her true identity."

"But why the heck would someone our age wanna do that?" asked Gerald.

"Maybe she has a good reason," I said, growing irritated at my friends' distrust. "Okay… maybe, _maybe_ Trudy hasn't been completely honest with us, but I haven't seen anything that would suggest that she's a bad person."

"I don't know," Phoebe replied. "I think you might be proceeding from a position of bias here."

My eyes narrowed. "What are you saying?" I asked.

"Dude, you like her," Gerald said.

"Sure, I like her. She's cool."

"I mean, you like her, like her."

"Gerald, I _just_ met her."

"You saw Ruth McDougal for the first time in third grade and five minutes later, you were already talking about how many kids you wanted to have."

"Look, it doesn't matter!" Stupid Gerald, knowing me better than I know myself. "The point is, none of us have any reason to think the worst of her. There could be a very good reason why she's lying."

"Like what, exactly?" asked Phoebe.

"Like… she could be a runaway. Or homeless. Maybe… maybe she's on the run from some kind of abusive situation and she feels she can't trust anyone. It could be anything. I think we owe her the benefit of the doubt."

"I never really thought about that," admitted Gerald, rubbing the back of his neck in shame.

"I suppose it is plausible that she could have a reasonable rationale for concealing her true identity," agreed Phoebe. "But how do we proceed from here?"

"Let me talk to her. I've spent the most time with her. Maybe if she sees she can trust us, she'll open up and let us help her."

By now, most of the gang had finished their snacks and departed. At this point, it was just the three of us and Trudy remaining. "So, uh… good game, huh?" I began.

"I guess," she said. Probably still beating herself up over giving up the only run. I wondered how exactly I was going to bring up her deception.

"The important thing was that we all had fun together, right?"

"Right, yeah."

"So… I guess you could say that we're all friends?"

She looked for a second like she was processing something, then nodded. "I guess so, yeah. Friends."

"And being friends means that we can trust each other."

She raised an eyebrow. "I'm not sure you should go _that_ far. We just met yesterday."

"I know, but… look, if you're having a problem, I want you to know you can trust me to help."

Trudy cocked her visible eyebrow. "I'm not having a problem."

She sounded steady, but she bit her lower lip a bit afterwards, betraying nervousness. I decided that I would prod just a little more, see f I could get her shell to crack a little. "If you, were, say, having trouble at home…"

"I'm not having trouble at home. My home's fine." She sounded a little off-guard now. I decided now would be the time to get to the point.

"I know you're not telling the truth about who you are," I said. Her face went pale… even slightly blue in the cheeks.

"H-how… why would you think that?"

"There is no PS 121," I continued. "And there's no Trudy Schwartzman either, is there."

"You did a background check on me," she accused, refusing to meet my eyes.

"Not me," I corrected. "Someone I trust a lot. She didn't find any record of you or your school in this city. You lied to us. You've been lying the whole time."

"I really didn't want to," she said. "Especially not to you. But I… I didn't have a choice."

"I don't understand."

"Of course you don't understand! You couldn't! I don't want to lie to you, but telling the truth would be even worse!"

"How could telling the truth possibly worse?"

"Because sometimes the truth could mess everything up!"

"Trudy… or…" I sighed. "I don't even know what to call you anymore."

"Trudy's fine," she said. "Seeing as it actually _is_ my first name."

"Look… I don't care how bad the truth is. I don't care if, you're homeless, or a runaway, or… a vampire, really…"

"Arnold, it's broad daylight right now," she said, a bit of a smile creeping back into her anxious expression in spite of herslf."

"…the point is, no matter what it is, I want you to know you can trust me."

"I do trust you," she said. "I trust you more than you could possibly know."

"You do?" I was taken aback. I was ready for "I… I just can't!" Or "O-okay… I'll try…" But for her to just straight-up admit she already did? She just met me yesterday! I know people seemed to open up to me all the time, but those were people who already knew me! "Then why won't you tell me the truth?"

"Because it's too dangerous."

"I'm willing to take that risk."

"Exactly, and that's why I can't tell you. Because it's so risky for you to know. Look, just understand… my problem is nothing you or anyone can help with. I know that's your whole deal, helping people, but there's literally not a thing you can do for me. Okay? Just… let it go."

I sighed. This felt all-too familiar. Once again, I was being emotionally pushed away by a tough, emotionally-turbulent blonde putting up a false façade to conceal her true nature. Well… I'd never been able to force Helga to come to me for help. When she did, it was always her choice. It was probably the same for Trudy. Pushing it would only drive her further away."

"Hey Arnold!" Gerald called from ahead. "It's getting late, so Pheobe an' I are gonna start walking ahead, okay?"

"That's all right!" I answered. "I'll catch up!" I turned back toward Trudy. "Okay," I conceded. "I won't pry any further. But I'm thinking you probably still need a place to stay."

She started to protest, but stopped. "I can't argue with that," she said.

"I'll smooth things over with Grandpa and Grandma," I added. "We'll think of something to tell them…"

"Actually, your Grandma already knows I'm a fake," Trudy admitted. "She's very perceptive."

"Yeah," I agreed. "She'll surprise you." I wondered just how much of Trudy's deal she'd figured out.

The two of us started walking home, about two blocks behind Gerald and Phoebe. The streets were pretty empty. We'd drawn a bit closer, just in sight of the two, when suddenly a van pulled up opposite the couple. Four thugs piled out and grabbed Gerald and Phoebe. I recognized the lead, a guy who looked like he'd stepped straight out of a fifties greaser movie. Frankie G. A two bit thug who I'd once thought was cool, but it turned out he was just a user. I was about to try to intervene, but Trudy pulled me aside and covered my mouth. "Shhh," she whispered.

A fifth figure exited the driver's seat. If Frankie G was dressed like a refugee from the fifties, this guy looked like he came from two decades later. He was a tall, thin man with a probably-fake tan, a ponytail, and a goatee, and was dressed in a grey leisure suit and white open-collared shirt. I immediately recognized him, too. After all, it hadn't been too long ago he'd help almost tear down the neighborhood.

"Yeah… that's definitely him," Nick Vermicelli confirmed. "Hair's a little different, but I never forget a face."

"Man, who let you outta then pen?" asked Gerald.

"Let's just say it pays to have a good lawyer," he answered with a smirk.

"I hope for your sake you keep them on retainer," Phoebe said defiantly, struggling against the two beefy thugs who had her restrained. "Seeing as odds are you will not evade justice a second time."

"Whatta we do with smartypants here?" one asked. "She wasn't on the list."

"Bring her too. We don't need her to go blabbin' to the coppers. Besides… I bet that mouthy blonde'll enjoy the company."

Phoebe gasped. "You have Helga?" At the mention of her name, I tried to wriggle out of Trudy's grasp, but she held firm and shushed me again. She was a surprisingly strong girl.

"Oh, you know each other," sneered Vermicelli. "Even better. It'll be like a slumber party. Only you'll be tied up in a storage locker."

"Shame we couldn't get that football-headed kid," Frankie mused. "I got a beef to settle with him."

"Patience. He'll turn up sooner or later," Vermicelli advised. "For now we'd better get these two out of here before any nosy locals turn up." He took a final quick glance around, then got back into the van as the thugs dragged Gerald and Phoebe in the back, and drove off.

As soon as they were gone, I turned angrily to Trudy. "Why didn't you let me stop them?"

"Because you couldn't!" she snapped back. "There were five of them, they're bigger, and I saw at least two guns. Besides… you heard the greaser guy. They're after you too. Best case scenario, you get captured too. Worst case… well…" There was no need to speak. As soon as she'd mentioned the guns, it was obvious what "worst case" implied.

"I'm sorry. I just…"

"I know you wanted to charge in there and save the day, but it was the wrong call. My dad taught me that sometimes, the best play is to stay put and listen." She looked me in the eye, smiling reassuringly. We'll get them back," she pledged. "Helga too. I promise."

"We?" I asked. "You're gonna help me?"

"Of course. But we have to play this smart. No going off half-cocked."

I nodded.

It was strange… she sounded like she was actually used to this sort of thing. Like she was equipped to deal with it. It seemed like the longer I knew Trudy, the more mysterious she got. Everything I learned was like a puzzle piece that didn't match the rest. It felt like if I found the right one, all the rest would fall into place, but it remained elusive.

I resolved, right then, that as soon as we solved the kidnapping, I would fully throw myself into the mystery of Trudy Schwartzman.

* * *

**A.N.: Looks like things just got kicked into twelfth gear! Luckily, Arnold and Trudy are on the case. But will Trudy be forced to reveal her ace in the hole to help get the gang back?**

**Jose: Yep. I figure anyone stupid enough to try kidnapping Helga would find herself in a real "Ransom of Red Chief" situation (It's by O. Henry. Look it up).**

**J.A.M.: Heh heh heh.**

**Luna: I know, right? The cold, greasy sodium-loaded irony! Thanks for the fan art, BTW.**

**Next: "The Game's Afoot!"**

**Update: Yeah, I just remembered that the bully in "And You May Ask Yourself" was named Sebastian, not Johann. Whoops! Fixed.**


	15. The Game's Afoot

Chapter 14

The Game's Afoot

_Hillwood PD, 12__th__ Precinct_

_-TRUDY-_

Of course we came here first. My dad, above all, is someone who will try to do the right thing, so naturally, our first step would be to try to alert the adult authorities.

"I'd like to report a kidnapping!" he blurted to the bored-looking sergeant on duty.

The sergeant looked at us as if we had just reported Bigfoot eloping with the Loch Ness Monster. "Look, kids, this isn't the place for jokes. We're very busy here."

"Yeah, I can see that," I remarked, noting the half-finished game of Solitaire on his computer screen.

"This isn't a joke. We just saw a guy grab two of our friends right off the street and throw them in a van."

The jaded sergeant was unmoved. "Can you describe the van?"

"It was a black van. No markings, no plates."

He glanced at us suspiciously. "So you expect us to find this one black van, with no identifying characteristics, in a city with thousands of vehicles."

"Wouldn't that be your _job_?" I asked pointedly. The Pataki sass, kicking in at the worst possible moment, as usual.

"Listen… kid, we got dozens of investigations going on daily. Even if you gave us some actual details to go off of…"

"But we do! I have the name of the kidnapper!"

"You do?" I asked.

"It's Nick Vermicelli!"

The desk sergeant raised an eyebrow. "Nick… _Vermicelli_?"

"Yeah, that's the name of-"

The sergeant burst out laughing. "That's a real good one, kid! That's the kind of name they'd give a bad guy in some crazy cartoon!" He called back to the other two people on duty. "Hey, this kid says his friends were kidnapped by a guy named Nick… _Vermicelli_!" The two joined in the laughter."

"I'm telling the truth!" Dad protested. "If you'd just look-"

"Look, you've had your fun, kids… just run along now."

"Fine," Dad said, frustrated to no end.

"You guys really suck at this, you know that?" I added, as we exited. I'd heard the department was in really bad shape in the days before Akiko's dad worked there, but seeing it first hand was very disillusioning.

* * *

Their laughter was still echoing in our ears as we stepped out into the streets.

"So much for being responsible and going to the adult authorities," I commented.

"We had to try," Dad said. "Even if it was a complete waste of time."

"So, what's the plan now?" I asked.

'Well, that guy was no help but he was right about one thing… we're not going to find him by looking for the van. So we're going to have to go off of whatever other information we have."

"He mentioned they have Helga in a storage locker," I said. "Probably one of those big ones, if they have enough room for you, Gerald and Phoebe."

He snapped his fingers. "Yes! That's our starting point. We need to get a list of storage locker rental facilities in the city. Then we need to narrow the list down to the ones he's most likely to use. We can go from there."

"So, I guess we're going back to your house?"

"No. If they're after me, that's the first place they'd look. We're better off at the library. It's closer, anyway."

As the two headed off, they were unaware someone else was watching. Someone who'd been keeping a close eye on a particular stranger to this time.

"A rescue mission, eh?" Gertie whispered to herself. "I'd better gear up."

* * *

_Meanwhile…_

_Ansolabehere Brothers Self-Storage Unit 12A_

_-HELGA-_

I'd forgotten just how long I'd been in here at this point. The hours tend to blur together when you're tied to a chair with no way to judge the passage of time but occasional meal and bathroom breaks. To keep myself distracted, first I tried counting my blessings. That didn't take long. After that, I tried counting my curses, which was a far more time-consuming task but didn't exactly do a great job of keeping my spirits high. Not that they're particularly high to begin with, of course.

Anyway, once I got tired of that, I decided instead that I would dedicate my time to composing an epic poem in the style of Homer and Virgil, dedicated to my one and only football-headed beloved and his near-mythic exploits. Sure, I had absolutely no knowledge of ancient Greek or Latin, but hey, that's what Google Translate is for, right?

I had just completed the first stanza (it was hard going without some method of actually writing down my thoughts; I kept forgetting what words I was trying to rhyme with), an ode to the day he narrowly avoided Harold's thrashing, when the door rolled open again, revealing a) that it was late afternoon/early evening and b) that Nick had been busy.

"Hey, Blondie," he said, "I figure you're gettin' lonely in here. Maybe you need some company?"

"Nah," I said sarcastically. "I'm good. I really needed the alone time."

"Well, that's too bad, 'cause I have a couple of friends of yours."

On his cue, a bunch of his goons dragged in Phoebe and Gerald, who had already been tied to chairs of their own.

"Now, how 'bout I leave you three here to get reacquainted? Don't you go anywhere now." He laughed as if it was the funniest thing anyone had ever said, then locked the door again.

"So, hey, pull up a chair," I said. "Let me give you folks the grand tour. Over there, you'll see the filthy storage unit, and back there, there's the filthy storage unit, and on your left, guess what, a filthy storage unit!"

"This isn't funny, Pataki," grumbled Gerald. "What did you get us into?"

"Well, excuse me for trying to lighten the mood, Tall Hair Boy!" I snapped. "And I didn't _get us_ into anything! It's not _my_ fault this guy kidnapped us! Okay, so technically, he wouldn't have if we hadn't saved the neighborhood, but need I remind you, _you_ played a pretty big role in that yourself! Trust me, if it was up to me, you think I'd wanna be stuck in a closed space with you?"

"This ain't exactly a picnic for me either, Pataki. Man, t'think I actually stood up for you."

"…you what?"

"It's nothin'. Forget it. I never should've done it in the first place."

"Hmmph. Right, like _you_ would _ever_-"

"Clearly, it was temporary insanity. Trust me, I will never do it ag-"

"Gerald, shut up," Phoebe interrupted.

"Oh, here we go again, you're gonna take Helga's side like you always do…"

"Darn right she is, Geraldo-"

"You shut up too, Helga," snapped Phoebe. "I'm not going to sit here and listen to two people I care a lot about snipe at each other. We're not going anywhere, so you two are going to talk it out."

I stared at Phoebe. Sure, she'd been showing more backbone lately, but this was the first time she'd ever flat out told me to shut up.

"Did you really stand up for me?" I asked.

"Arnold was out of line," Gerald admitted. "He… shouldn't've talked to you like that."

"…thanks," I said after a long pause.

"Yeah, well… sometimes you're kind of all right, you know? Not a lot, but sometimes."

"Fair enough," I said. "You're all right too sometimes. And for some reason, Pheebs likes you, so I guess you can't be all bad…"

"Helga!" Phoebe exclaimed, blushing.

"Oh, please, don't try to hide it. You two are about as subtle as the acting on a Disney Channel sitcom. Far be it from me to get in your way."

"So, uh," Gerald said, embarrassedly trying to change the subject. "Any ideas for getting out of here?"

"I have a few," Phoebe admitted. "Unfortunately, they all involve me being able to move my arms."

"Well, that's just great," I said. "Do you have any other ideas?"

"Uh… I spy with my little eye something beginning with B?"

"Is it…. Box of bootleg DVDs?" Gerald asked.

"Correct!" answered Phoebe. "Your turn!"

Criminy. This was gonna get old _fast_.

* * *

_Hillwood Public Library_

_-TRUDY AGAIN-_

The computers in the library were outdated even by 2017 standards. When you come from where _I _do, "outdated" becomes "infuriatingly primitive".

I could whip out my phone and do the research must faster, but then I'd run the risk of Dad getting a look at the definitely-not-2017 technology. It wasn't worth it. I had no choice but to grit my teeth and endure.

Making it worse was the fact that I could already feel the telltale tingle that told me my time was running out. Soon, the tingle would become pain, and the pain would get worse, and when it got really bad I'd be forced to change back no matter where I was and my secret (well, one of them) would be blown. So, watching the minutes tick by while dad tried to wrangle the needed information out of the library's ancient technology was made even more excruciating.

"Okay, finally, " he announced, a little too loud as the librarian shushed us. Quieter, he continued, "I have a list of all the storage locker facilities in town."

"That's great!" I whispered.

"There are nineteen."

"That's not so great."

"But…" he continued… "we can narrow it down. Eight of the places only offer smaller lockers. Of the remaining eleven, six are located in busy sections of town. Way too much chance of being spotted."

"So that leaves five."

"Yes. There's Blake Storage uptown."

"I don't think so. That's a pretty wealthy section of town. I don't see our guy hanging around there."

"Good point," Dad said. "You're pretty good at this."

"Well, you know… my mom knows a lot about the way criminals think."

"Oh, right, because she writes mystery novels."

"Yeah, that. She did a lot of research into criminal psychology so that she could write authentically." Actually, she kind of got started on the mystery novels because of her experience as a superhero, but Dad didn't need to know that.

"Do you have any more insights?" he asked.

"Well…" I wracked my brain for more of the info I'd gleaned from my mom's stories. "I wouldn't go with anything that was part of a national chain. They all keep central records. Too easy to trace. And they ask too many questions. He'd go to a local operation, one that would probably keep all their records on site."

"Well, that rules out U-Stor-It," Dad decided. "That leaves us with three choices. Drymon's Self-Storage on Palm St., and Ansolabehere Brothers and Baroza Storage down by the docks."

"Hmm." I eyed the map. "Those last two seem the most likely. Not a lot of busy businesses and residences out there. Perfect for someone who doesn't want to be bothered."

"That's what I was thinking," agreed Arnold.

"Okay… I guess we go down and check them both out," I said.

"That'd take too long, they're too far apart. I have a better idea, but it involves a phone. You have one, right?"

Oh, crap. "Sorry… the charge ran out and I had no way to recharge it."

"Well, maybe we could use the librarian's phone. But we'd need to-"

"Did someone say _distraction_?"

From seemingly nowhere, a short, skinny boy with a yellow shirt, a black bowl-cut hairdo and red-rimmed coke-bottle glasses popped up behind us.

"Nobody said distraction, Curly." Dad said, irritated. So, this was the legendary Thaddeus "Curly" Gammelthorpe.

"It was implied! Oh, hello," he said, addressing me. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure, fair maiden."

"Trudy. I'm new." I said.

"Ah. Pleased to make your acquaintance," he said, taking hold of my hand, clearly making an attempt to kiss it like something out of some period drama.

"Try it and you'll be eating all your meals through a straw." I warned.

"Ah, feisty. I like that," he replied flirtaciously. Oh, shoot me now. "Well, one distraction, coming up!"

"Don't you even want to know what-" Dad attempted to ask.

"CURLY AWAY!" he shouted, bounding through the aisle. "Citizens of Hillwood!" he shouted over the librarian's shushing. "You deserve to know the truth! Libraries are a tool of the establishment! Wi-Fi is melting your brains! The government is using Candy Crush Saga to control your minds! Read all about it in my online newsletter! Curlonda4ever Ramblr dot com!"

"You again!" hissed the librarian. "You were warned. I will not brook these distractions in my library."

"You'll have to catch me first, government stooge!" He dashed toward the maze of stacks in the back, pursued by the enraged librarian. "That's Curlonda, the number 4, ever! Drop by and get woke!"

"You know, I think he was going to do that anyway," Dad said.

"Well, we might as well take advantage of it," I reminded him.

"Right," he said. We snuck behind the librarian's desk and he dialed the first of the two places. He cleared his throat and, in a near-perfect imitation of Nick Vermicelli's voice, said. "Hey, Vermicelli here. I wanted to confirm when my next payment's due. Got a lotta stuff goin' on, big things happenin', stuff gets forgotten about, capische? I gotta get reinded of stuff from time t'time, know what I'm sayin'?" A pause. "Friday? Thanks, dollface. You're the best." He hung up. "Bingo," he said, smiling.

"That was uncanny," I said admiringly.

"You should hear my Grandpa. 'How's it goin' Shortman? Never eat raspberries.'"

I chuckled. "Well, you've got a future in impressions, if nothing else."

"YOU CAN BAN ME, BUT YOU CAN'T BAN THE TRUTH, FOOLS!" Curly bellowed from the rear. "THE REPTITES HAVE INFILTRATED ALL LEVELS OF GOVERNMENT! INVEST IN CRYPTOCURENCY!"

"The fake lizard people from _Chrono Trigger_?" mused Dad.

"Sounds like your friend got himself caught," I said.

"He'll be fine," Dad replied. "We have what we need. Let's get over to the docks."

* * *

_Meawhile, at the Sunset Arms._

"Hello?" Phil asked, straining to hear the voice on the other end. It wasn't so much that his hearing was failing as the fact that the phone was ancient. "Martin? No, they're not here… I thought he was by you. No? Hmm, that's odd… well, maybe they're running late… Have you tried the library?"

"Headed out, Phil. Don't wait up."

Phil looked up. Gertie was dressed in military fatigues and an army helmet, twin bandoliers crisscrossing her chest. _Oh lord, she's wearing a costume. That can't be good. _"Pookie, what in the name of all sanity are you doing?"

"Our boys are pinned down behind enemy lines. I'm mounting a rescue operation. And god help the enemy if they get in my way.

_Oh, it's one of those, _he thought. Well, if Phil had learned anything over the years, it was that when Pookie set her mind to do something, heaven and Earth combined could not sway her. "Well, try not to get arrested this time."

"No promises." she replied ominously, before exiting.

"Heh, she's a pip, that o- wait, were those real grenades? Maybe I should go after-" He stopped short, as his aging digestive system interrupted, fueled by the raspberry jam Gertie snuck into his sandwich. "well, maybe I can catch up later."

* * *

_The Docks_

_-STILL TRUDY-_

The two of us approached Ansolabehere Brothers. It was getting late, but the night was cloudless and a full moon was rising in the skies.

The tingle had graduated to a twinge now, but I figured I still had time before it progressed to an ache. "So far so good," Dad said. "Coast's clear, and it looks like the office is closed for the day. If the two of us can sneak in, check the records, and grab a spare key, maybe we could get the locker open and grab Helga, Gerald, and Phoebe before Vermicelli and his goons show up."

"Sounds like a plan to me," I responded.

"Well, well, well," a slick voice remarked from behind us. "I guess this is our lucky day."

We whirled to face the speaker. One was the greaser-looking guy from before, toting a switchblade. The other I didn't recognize at all.

"Frankie G," Dad identified. "And… some other guy."

"If it ain't my old pal Arnold," Frankie said with a smirk. "And it looks like he's got himself a little girlfriend there."

"I'm not your 'pal', Frankie. I'm just some kid you tried to use to help steal a stereo."

"Sure, I'm your friend," he said. "That's what friends do, yeah? They help. An' now you're gonna help me again. You're gonna help me make a mint for bringin' you in."

He and his friend began to advance, the friend wielding a tire-iron. I took up a fighting stance, exactly the way Dad would teach me in the years ahead. I looked to my left and noted that he'd taken one that exactly mirrored mine.

"Ooh, look, they're gonna use kung fu on us!" the other guy taunted.

"Karate, actually," Dad corrected, nodding imperceptibly at me. In perfect tandem, the two of us delivered twin kicks to the exact nerve in the forearms corresponding to thug's weapon-wielding hands, forcing them to drop their weapons. We followed up with stiff punches to their solar plexi, making them double over in pain. The two looked back up, unsure of what had just happened. I made a "bring it on" gesture, smiling.

"W-we'll be back," the one called Frankie said, running off, his cohort straggling behind him.

"That was amazing," breathed dad. "Where'd you learn to fight like that?"

_You_. "My dad," I replied truthfully. "He's a black belt."

"And your mom's a criminal psychology expert," he continued. "They sound pretty amazing."

"They are," I responded.

"…so why aren't you with them?" he asked.

"It's… complicated," I said.

"I don't see why," he said. "I'd give anything to…" He looked wistful for a moment. "L-look, never mind, forget I asked."

Ugh, what was I thinking? Gushing about my wonderful parents at a time when he barely knew his? I'd clearly brought up thoughts he didn't really like to dwell on. "Forgotten."

"Y'know… I usually do this kid of thing with Gerald, but you make a pretty good partner too."

I blushed slightly. "Well, thanks."

"Maybe, once this is all over, we can… I don't know… hang out a little more?"

"Uh…. What do you mean?" I felt uncomfortable suddenly, and it wasn't just the tingling.

"I mean, you and me, we could, maybe, go to the movies or something."

The cold, uncomfortable sensation continued. "Like… a date…"

"Well, I guess if you wanted to ca-"

"Oh, no. No no no no no no no." I said. "That can absolutely _not_ happen."

"What's wrong? I thought we were getting along pretty well!"

"We are! I'm just… not into you like that!"

"But I thought-"

"Well, you were wrong!" The look of betrayal on his face hurt, but I absolutely had to shut this down hard, no matter how badly he took it.

"Why?" He asked. "What's so wrong with me?"

"Nothing!"

"Then why don't girls like me?" He sighed. "I just got through with this. I was into this one girl, but no matter what I did, she kept telling me 'I don't like you-like you, I just like you.' Either that, or they're just trying to get something from me." He glared. "Was that it? You needed a place to stay, so you pretended to like me?"

"What? No!"

"Then what is it? WHY don't you like me-like me?"

"It's not you. It's me."

"What is it, then? Why won't you tell me?"

"It's complicated!" I repeated. "Look… I wish I could just tell you. It's killing me that I can't te- AHHH!" It was at that very moment, probably brought on by the stress, that the twinge evolved to a full-blown spasm in my sides.

"Trudy?" He caught me before I collapsed. "I didn't think you meant it literally!"

"It's nothing," I lied. "Probably just pulled something while we were fighting. See, I'm fine now." I got up. "It's worked itself out."

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm sure! Now c'mon, the office is right there!"

"Okay. Now, how are we going to get in…" He thought to himself. "Maybe I could use some dust on the security keypad to see which numbers have been pressed… then, it's just a simple matter of trying combinations…"

*CRASH*

"…or we could break a window," I said, crawling through the hole, trying not to cut myself on the glass. The last thing I needed was to leave half-alien blood lying around. I unlocked the door for Dad.

"My way would've been neater," he said.

"And slower. C'mon, help me check through the records."

Minutes later, we found the record we were looking for. We grabbed the spare key "We need to find 12A," I announced.

"There's a map on the wall," Dad said. "Looks like it's in the northwest bank…"

"…the furthest one away," I said. "Terrific."

"At least we found the key," he assured. "They're as good as saved."

We scrambled out of the office and were halfway to the northwest locker bank when my random spasms finally graduated to full-blown agony. Unable to stand any longer, I collapsed to my knees.

"Trudy!" He rushed back to my side.

"I'm fine!" I lied. "It's just another muscle pull. Go. Get your friends."

"No," he said. "I can't just leave you here. And this isn't just a strained muscle, is it. This is why you won't go out with me. You're sick, aren't you, and you're worried about how I'd react."

"That's… aghhh…. That's not what this is…"

"Then what? Whatever it is… you can tell me." He gave me a look with those big sympathetic eyes of his. It didn't matter at this point… soon, I'd be unable to stop myself from changing and my secret… well, one of them… would be blown anyway.

"Okay, fine. The truth is, I'm not what I appear to be."

He looked at me funny. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I'm not strictly…"

Suddenly, we were grabbed from behind. "Told you I'd be back, taco head." Frankie G said with a smirk. This time, we were outnumbered four to two and with me in no condition to resist and him too distracted by my condition, they easily managed to restrain us.

"Vermicelli?" Frankie announced into his cel phone. "Frankie here. Looks like we got us a full house."

* * *

**A.N.: And now, we move into the endgame! **

**J.A.M.: As you can see, the police weren't much help. Kinda par for the course for this show, actually…**

**Jose: Yep, Trudy's really good in these situations, not in small thanks to Arnold himself.**

**Next: "Exposed"**


	16. Exposed

Chapter 15

Exposed

_Alley near the northwest bank of lockers, Ansolabehere Brothers Self Storage_

_-ARNOLD-_

The timing was the worst it could possibly be. Trudy, the mystery girl that had so captured my imagination in the last couple of days, was about to reveal her big secret to me – obviously related to the strange bouts of pain she'd been experiencing. And Frankie G, a hood who had a past with me, had chosen that moment to interrupt. I'd been so concerned with her I'd never even seen them coming.

"Vermicelli?" the thug announced into his cell phone. "Frankie here. Looks like we got us a full house. Yeah, I got the football-headed kid. Some girl's with 'im, too. *pause* Okay, but I want extra. She wasn't part of the deal."

"Hey!" I said. "You have what you want. You don't need her too."

"Look, pal, if it was up to me, I'd leave her, but it ain't, dig?"

"She's in pain. She needs a doctor."

"No! No doctors!" she said.

"I don't care how much pain the little rat's in," the goon holding her said. "We're taking her. She punched me in the stomach, man!"

"Oooh, Cliffy A got punched in the stomach by a little girl," a third hood teased. "I'm shakin'."

"You weren't there, man. This kid's like, freakishly strong."

"Oh, you don't even know," Trudy said, a look of determination forming through the pain. "But you're gonna." She smiled. "Remember how you said it didn't matter what my secret was? I'm gonna hold you to it, 'cause it's a doozy."

And her skin began to turn red. Not the kind of red from increased blood flow from stress. A bright, intense fire-engine red.

"Surprise." She smiled, revealing her canine teeth had enlarged into fangs. Black claws formed on the tips of her fingers, pointy ears poked out from her mop of hair, and twin spurs pushed out from her back, unfolding into large batlike wings, forcing Cliffy A to let go.

"Holy crap… she's some kinda kid vampire or somethin'!" the fourth thug exclaimed.

"You wish," Trudy said. "I'm something way worse." She closed her eyes and allowed a second set of arms to grow from her sides, and a tail to snake out of the base of her spine. When she reopened them, there were now three, bright green things with vertical pupils, glowing in the night. The thugs backed away from the transformed girl, though Frankie still held me too tight to wriggle free.

"Trudy?" I asked. "Are you still… you?"

"Oh, yeah. Actually, this was the real me the whole time. Staying in my human form too long hurts. But now…" She cracked both sets of knuckles. "Let the boy go, Frankie."

"Heh, you think you scare me? You may be a monster kid, but you're still a kid. Me and boys can take you. No matter how many arms you got."

"Not a chance. I'm stronger than all.." she suddenly shook her head, "…eight of you put together," she said, stepping forward, a bit unsteadily.

"…uh, Trudy, there's only four of them," I said.

"What are you talking about…" she said, sounding dizzy. "There's… okay, now there's twelve…" She wavered, "…sixteen… stop multiplying, you guys…"

And with that, she unceremoniously keeled over.

"Trudy!" I tried to wriggle free, but Frankie held fast.

"Oh, no, you ain't goin' nowhere. But hey, sorry your girlfriend there turned out to be a monster. Believe me, I know the feelin'. Am I right, guys?"

"She's not a monster. She's just kinda different." I kinda knew my protests meant nothing to these jerks, but I hoped that at least Trudy was still conscious enough to hear me. I wanted her to know that her differences didn't matter to me, that I wouldn't care if she had ten eyes and fifty arms. I still wanted to be her friend.

"Well, whatever she is, say your goodbyes, 'cause you got a date with Vermicelli."

"Uh, what do we do with… that?" Thug 3 asked.

"I ain't touchin her, man," Cliffy A protested. "She's probably got monster germs. I ain't catchin' no monster germs, man."

"Leave 'er," Frankie said, beginning the walk to the storage locker.

"But what if she wakes up?" asked Thug 4.

"What if she does? Who's she gonna go to lookin' like that? Only place left for her is to go back home to the Inside-Out."

"The what?" asked Cliffy.

"…the Inside-Out? Where the Hobgyclops came from?"

The others stared at him blandly.

"Oh, come on, nobody's seen _Odder Occurrences_?"

"I don't get Webflix," Thug 4 said.

"Yeah, me nether, Cliff added. "Seemed like an expense I couldn't justify."

"I'm still binging _Stripes are the New Plaid_," explained Thug 3.

"Jeez, you guys got no taste, Except you, Lenny M. I heard that's pretty good."

I strained to look back at Trudy, but we were already out of eye contact. I hoped for her sake that she was able to wake up before anyone found her. Who knew what would happen to her if that occurred.

At least they were taking me to wherever my friends were. Now I'd finally get to make things square with Helga… if she would even talk to me.

* * *

_-HELGA-_

"Is it… stack of boxes?" asked Gerald.

"Bzzt. Wrong." I answered. "Come on… it's all around us…"

"Is it… _squalor_?" Phoebe guessed.

"Bingo!" Good old Pheebs. She got me.

"Your last three were squalor, filth, and grime," complained Gerald.

"It's not like there's a lot to choose from," I explained. "Gotta go with what's available."

"I'm pleased to see you're getting into the spirit of the game," expressed Phoebe.

"Well, it beats sitting around in silence," I said. "Or worse, talking about our feelings. Speaking of which,"

"Right, right," Gerald said. "I won't tell anyone you have them. _Nobody'd believe me anyway_," he added under his breath.

"Okay, my turn!" Phoebe interrupted eagerly. "I spy with my little eye, something beginning with D."

"Is it darkness?" asked Gerald.

"No…"

"Is it dirt?" I asked.

"No… but you're close."

"Is it-" Gerald's guess was interrupted by the locker door rolling up again.

"Hey kids," Vermicelli said, "look who my boys found!"

Two of his goons came in holding a tied-up figure between them, instantly recognizable due to the distinct shape of his cranium.

"Arnold!" I exclaimed.

The goons simply tossed him onto the floor without fanfare. "Sorry, kid," he apologized insincerely, "We're all outta chairs." He slammed the door back down behind him.

"Helga!" Arnold said, struggling to position himself so he could face me. "Are you okay?"

"Now that you're here," I found myself saying dreamily before I could stop myself.

"What?"

I shook myself out of my romantic fugue. "I said I was fine until you showed up, football-head! Sheesh! Of all the people I had to be trapped with, I get you and tall hair boy! Must be my unlucky day." Oh lord. Even in the direst of situations, I can't turn it off. What on earth is _wrong_ with me?

Arnold sighed. "About that… look… I… I just want to say I'm really sorry I yelled at you yesterday."

Criminy… was he doing this _now_? Stupid football head with his unwavering commitment to right and good that absolutely drives me crazy _with forbidden desire._ "Fine, okay, whatever, you're forgiven, can we forget about this?"

"No… it's not okay. There was no excuse for treating you like that."

"Sure there was. I treat you like something I scrape of my shoe on a regular basis. You were bound to snap eventually. Honestly, it's a testament to your sickeningly positive outlook on life that it didn't happen sooner."

"I did throw paint on you that one time," he admitted.

"Yeah, you pretty much earned that one too." I assured.

"I still shouldn't have stooped-"

"'-to your level,'" I completed. "There it is. Deep down, you think you're so much better than me." Ugh, here I go getting all defensive on him again. Trying to throw his apology back in his face because I'm scared of being honest about myself.

"That's not what I meant!"

"Sure it is! You're Arnold! Arnold the saint! Arnold the Humanitarian! Arnold the Probably the Living Incarnation of Buddha! Arnold the Too Good for us Mere Mortals!"

"I don't think that at all! Helga… I think you can be an amazing person when you let yourself."

"Dude must've taken one to the head," mused Gerald _sotto_.

"I just… I wish you would let yourself all the time. And I wish I knew _why_ you didn't."

"Yeah, well…" _HE THINKS I'M AN AMAZING PERSON! _"You believe what you want to, Hair Boy."

"Whatever you say, Helga. I just want to know if you and I are okay. I… I don't know what's going to happen to us, and if something does…" He left the thought unfinished on purpose.

"Yeah…. I'm okay with you." I'm more than okay with you! I'm madly, crazy, over-the-moon, head-over-heels, whack-a-doodle-doo-dah in love with you and have been since as long as I remember and this might be the end and I if it is I just want you to know the truth and oh god WHY? CAN'T? I? SAY? IT? Quick, change the subject! "So… how'd they get you?"

"Actually… we were on our way to rescue you."

"You were?" _O, my love, of course you were! My valiant knight, come to release me from the clutches of_\- "…wait, we?"

He looked despondent. "Trudy was helping me. They took me and left her…"

He went into everything that had happened after Gerald and Phoebe had been grabbed, recapping his and Trudy's investigation in a way that was pretty exciting but would probably be really boring if this was a story someone was reading. Not that that was something that would actually have happened.

"And then we grabbed the key, and we were on our way here, when Frankie G came back with reinforcements."

"Jeez, Arnoldo, I thought Trudy was some kind of badass fighter or something…" Criminy, why did that girl just keep getting cooler? How do I compete with that? "… so why couldn't you guys hand those guys their butts this time?"

"Well, they caught us by surprise, and…." He paused. "We just couldn't."

"And why did they decline to capture her as well?" asked Phoebe.

"I… guess they thought she'd be too much trouble?" No, that wasn't it. Arnold was hiding something…. I didn't know what, but it must've been pretty major for him to not be telling the truth.

"But they clearly didn't want to leave any witnesses unattended, I am proof of that.." reasoned Phoebe in response. "It seems very unlikely that they would just leave her."

"Maybe she was in on it," suggested Gerald, irritatedly.

"Gerald!" Arnold scolded. "She's the one that helped me find this place!"

"Helped you right into a trap, you mean! Why do you trust her so much? She lied to all of us about who she was, she leads you to this place, and they oh-so-conveniently leave her behind! Sound really suspicious to me."

"Wait," I said, "what are you talking about?"

"We… found out Trudy isn't who she says she is," Phoebe explained sheepishly. "There are no records of her in the school system… or anywhere else."

"I told you, there are plenty of possible reasons for that," Arnold protested. "None of them necessarily mean that she's working with the kidnappers!"

"I don't know," I mused. "It kinda looks bad for her." Even though Trudy was, on paper, my despised rival, I just didn't want to think she could be a truly bad person. Unlike most of Arnold's crushes, she was _genuinely_ cool. Sure, if it turned out she was actually into Arnold, it would be my sacred duty to utterly destroy her, but for now, I was pretty cool with her. So it really hurt to think that she could have been manipulating us all along.

"Guys… she wasn't in on this. I know for a fact that she couldn't have been."

"Then, why isn't she here?" demanded Gerald "Why would they leave her alone?"

"I can't say," Arnold said. "There really is a very good reason why they didn't take her. But it's not my place to tell you. Besides… you probably wouldn't believe me if I did."

"Oh… so this is about her secret, isn't it," Gerald said. "Must be a pretty big one."

"Hey, it's a full moon tonight," I suggested sarcastically. "Maybe she's a werewolf."

Arnold's gaze shied from my own. Oh, crap, _was_ she a werewolf? Are werewolves real? How cool would that be? "Arnold, I was joking. I know there's no such thing as werewolves… unfortunately."

He still avoided looking right at me.

"Arnold…?" Gerald prodded, a bit concerned.

"…not a werewolf," Arnold said. "That's all I can say. It's up to her to tell you, not me. Just… trust me when I say she's not one of the bad guys."

"I believe him," I said. "If he says Trudy's cool, she's cool."

"Thanks," he said, smiling.

"Yeah, you may be a naïve, gullible idiot with your monstrously gigantic head constantly in the clouds…"

"….thanks," he repeated a bit more ruefully.

"Let me finish, head boy!" Ugh, why can't I just give him a compliment that isn't backhanded? What is _wrong_ with me? "Like I said… you're all those things, but you're also the most trustworthy person I know, so if you tell me something, I believe it, without question! And that should go for all of us, especially you, Geraldo! You're supposed to be his best friend, so what's up with that?"

"Hey, I'm just looking out for my guy here…"

"And that's good! You should totally do that! But also listen to him! That's what friendship is about, dumbass!"

They were all looking at me like I was crazy. Small wonder…. This is the most positive and encouraging I've ever been, and it's completely out of character for me.

"Hey, don't look at me like that," I said. "This is a crazy situation. We're all gonna say crazy thinks we don't mean, right? Like, Gerald could say he dreams of being an accordion player, or, ha ha, I could say I'm in love w-"

"I did it!" Phoebe suddenly exclaimed, waving her now-free right arm.

"Phoebe, you are officially amazing," I remarked. Especially since I was just about to admittedly-jokingly blurt my true feelings for a certain someone. Her timing could not have been better.

"How'd you do it?" Gerald asked. "Was it some secret Japanese breathing exercise?"

"No, I'm just small," Phoebe admitted, blushing. "They didn't take that into account when they tied me to the chair, so I was eventually able to work my arm out."

"Whatever it is, you just gave us the break we needed," Arnold said, grinning that ridiculously wide grin that makes me melt. Metaphorically. Actually melting literally would be pretty handy right now, but whatevs, "If you can get yourself out, you can get all of us out."

"Well, that's all well and good, Football-Head," I said, trying to still my heart doing flip-flops over how crazy hot his indomitable optimistic spirit was making me, "but there's still the matter of us being locked in here."

"Nick has to come back and check on us eventually," he reminded us. "When he does, that's when we surprise him. We've got plenty of stuff in here that we could turn into weapons if we make the right use of it."

"That is true," Phoebe agreed. "These folding chairs alone cold make for some very formidable blunt instruments."

"Yeah, and those DVDs'd probably leave a mark if you threw 'em hard enough," added Gerald.

I sighed. "Fine, ya got me, Arnold. For once, I am actually fully on board with whatever crazy scheme you've got planned. I can honestly say that I am genuinely excited to be a part of this."

"Thanks, Helga," he said. "You know… I always thought that you had the most sense out of anyone I've ever known, so… it really makes me glad that you're on board."

I felt myself turning bright red in spite of myself. "Yeah, well… don't read to much into this, yutz. I just don't wanna find out what these guys have planned. Believe me… Nick's such a sleaze that I don't put anything past him."

* * *

_Meanwhile…_

_Hillwood PD, 12__th__ Precinct_

_Some hours after Arnold and Trudy left_

Captain David Sloane, a middle-aged African-American man with a long, storied history in the Hillwood Police Department, entered the precinct offices, glancing disdainfully at the inattentive officer at the front desk. He had been delayed at a meeting with the commissioner for most of the day discussing the increasing gang activity in the city, but he was always ill at ease when he was too far away from the precinct. It seemed like whenever he wasn't around, the officers here tended to slack off far too much for his liking. "Far too much", of course, meant "at all."

"De Palma," he stated brusquely. "Sit up straight. A police officer does not slouch."

"Okay, jeez," De Palma replied, annoyed. "It's just kinda hard. The sugar low after half a dozen doughnuts hits pretty hard.

"Yes I would imagine," Sloane deadpanned. "And why are you wearing a sergeant's shirt, Detective?" he asked.

"My shirt had a big marinara sauce stain on it, and Mulder let me borrow one of his."

"Oh dear lord," muttered Sloane to himself.

"Anyway, been kind of a boring day," De Palma continued. "The only funny thing happened when these two kids came in trying to pull some kind of crazy prank."

"I see. Can you describe this 'prank?'"

"Well, this boy and girl come in acting all frantic and saying that their two friends have been kidnapped, and then when we ask if they had details, the boy says it was some guy named Linguine or Spaghetti or something." He chuckled. "Ain't that a riot?"

Sloane rubbed the bridge of his nose, a migraine beginning to come on. "Am I to understand that two individuals came in and reported an abduction… and you dismissed it as a practical joke?"

De Palma suddenly realized that the situation wasn't nearly as funny as he thought. "…yeah, but…. It was these two little kids! And they made up this ridiculous cartoon name. I mean, what kinda real person has a name like Macaroni or… Vermicelli, that was it! I remember 'cause I had vermicelli for lunch. That's where the sauce stain came from."

Sloane glared at the incompetent officer. "Vermicelli. As in the recently-paroled _Nicholas_ Vermicelli, the co-defendant in the FutureTech Industries incident."

De Palma gulped, realizing just how much trouble he was in. "He's a real guy, huh."

"Yes, I can personally attest to the fact that Vermicelli is, in fact, 'a real guy.'"

"Well, it's not like there were any missing person reports-"

"Hey, Captain!" The secretary reported. "I have two missing person reports! A Mrs. Johanssen reported that her son Gerald never came home, and Mr. Heyerdahl says the same about his daughter Phoebe. I know we're technically not supposed to start an investigaton for 24 hours, but they sound pretty serious."

"Oh, jeez," De Palma answered, the reality beginning to sink in. "What are we going to do?"

"Well… _you_ will be doing nothing, as you are on suspension pending further disciplinary action. As for the rest of us, we will be immediately investigating the whereabouts of this Nicholas Vermicelli and whether he has any involvement in these disappearances." He eyed De Palma. "Of course… if someone were to volunteer to participate in the investigation regardless of their suspension status, it would be taken into account in their disciplinary hearing…"

De Palma, to his credit, picked up on the hint. "Sir, I would like to volunteer for the investigation."

"Noted. Retrieve Vermicelli's file and investigate his most recent transactions. I expect a report in fifteen minutes."

_Behind the western locker bank, Ansolabehere Brothers Self-Storage_

* * *

_-TRUDY-_

"*yawn* Mo-o-om… I think I need a new mattress… this one feels like concrete…"

"No time for that. Up an' at 'em, private. Our soldiers are counting on us."

_Gran-Gran?_

Awareness slowly drifted back to me. A bunch of thugs had grabbed us… I decided that the emergency outweighed the risks of exposure and let myself transform (I was probably minutes away from being forced to do it anyway), and then…

…I was here on the floor and my great-grandma Gertie is looing down at me dressed like a World War 2 grunt.

I shook myself awake. "Hey, Gran-Gran… how long was I out?"

"Can't have been too long. I found you a few minutes ago and dragged you to our current position. Now look alive, corporal."

"Okay, hold up, you recognized me? Also, wasn't I a private a second ago?"

"Field promotion for extreme valor. As for recognizing you… you think a color change and a few extra body parts would keep me from recognizing my own great-grand-daughter?" She smirked. "Probably got it from Phil's side of the family. He comes from a long line of circus folk."

I grinned. "Nope. I inherited this from my mom. Alien mutation virus."

"Yep, those'll get you every time. Now, I need a full sitrep from you. Post-haste."

I recapped my dad's and my adventure, up to and including my transformation and subsequent passing out.

"…and, I guess that's what happens if I push off changing for too long. I pass out from the sudden energy drain." I tried to get upright. "My limbs still feel like they're made of lead. I probably can't fly right now or do much until I recover."

"You're always stronger than you think you are, soldier, Now come on, doughgirl, let's go save your parents. And I assume your godparents?" I nodded. "Need a hand up?"

"I have more than enough hands, thanks," I said, pulling myself up. "Okay, I'm weak right now, but I think I can still manage a flash or two."

"Corporal!" scolded Gran-Gran. "That's conduct unbecoming!"

What was she… oh, now I realize how that sounded. "Not what I remotely meant. I have the power to fire lasers from my fingers when I'm at 100%. I'm far from that right at the moment, but I can manage enough power for some blinding flashes."

"Well, then… that could be very helpful." She adjusted her helmet. "Time to go over the top, Corporal."

* * *

**A. N.: We're reaching the climax of this story! Only 3-4 more chapters left depending on how it shakes out. After that, I'll be taking on the long-delayed Ladybug crossover, which I promise will be significantly shorter than this.**

**J. A. M.: We know that Arnold does a dead-on Grandpa, it's not a stretch to imagine that he may be able to mimic others. And Frankie and his pal ran off before our daddy-daughter duo could deliver finishing blows. As for the security camera, there's a very good explanation for th- hey, look over there! *YOINK***

**Paddywagon: Yeah, that is some pretty shameful behavior for cops, but it was kind of a running thing on **_**Hey Arnold**_** that government officials, even cops, tended to be completely useless. We do have a competent police official showing up in this chapter though in the person of Captain Sloane, or as I probably should have called him, "Straight Up Just Captain Holt from **_**Brooklyn 99**_**". Officers De Palma and Mulder are a further reference to the bumbling duo of Hitchcock and Scully from the same show.**

**Jose: Oh, yes… while everyone's going to remember a very highly-edited version of these events, those cops are still gonna be sweating a disciplinary hearing.**

**LP: There's no expiration date on a good review!  
*Like I said, we were always getting scenes where the government and the police refused to take Arnold and co. seriously and this is just one more example.  
*Hopefully, Helga manages to retain all that epic verse she's composing.  
*Yeah, I thought the two of them instinctually mirroring each others' moves would make for a great visual.  
*Poor guy… the last three girls he's been into (not counting Miss Felter), in order, didn't know he was alive, repeatedly rejected him for seemingly no good reason, and tried to use him to win a contest. And now here's his latest crush, he thought he had a chance, and she rejected him too (though for much better reasons), so he's gotta be feeling really down on himself right now.**

**Next: The climax of our story!**


	17. The One where All the Stuff Goes Down

Chapter 16

The One Where All the Stuff Goes Down

_Ansolabehere Brothers Self-Storage_

If a bunch of hired goons had come to your average guy warning of some kind of "devil girl", he would have questioned just exactly what they'd been smoking or snorting and looked into perhaps hiring some less chemically-addled goons. Nick Vermicelli, however, had not gotten where he was by not being cautious and not preparing for the worst. Rather than dismissing their accounts as some sort of drug-addled group hallucination, he'd taken them as seriously as he could and called in more, better armed, help.

Ansolabehere Brothers was basically a warren of alleys separating large locker banks. Plenty of twists and turns for someone to hide in. There were about a dozen armed toughs patrolling this urban labyrinth currently. At this moment, two of said toughs were patrolling near the western bank of lockers. They had heard the accounts of the "devil girl" but were far less willing to entertain their claims than Vermicelli had been. As far as they were concerned, this was just an easy paycheck.

They were in for a surprise.

"Man, this is so boring," one said, yawning. "You wanna just ditch and go home?"

"Can't," the other replied. "I need this gig or I miss a student loan payment."

"Ugh, tell me about it. Communications was a mistake." He blinked. "Hey, is that a firefly?"

"It's not really the season for those yet." The goon blinked. "Is it getting bigger?"

What seemed to be a tiny point of light at first did indeed grow larger… or perhaps it had just been far away at first and was getting closer. The point was moot when it suddenly detonated in their faces, blinding the two.

The last thing the first heard was what sounded like an old woman shouting "54-40 or fight!" as a heavy boot collided with his head, ending his consciousness. The second remained conscious a bit longer, but only a bit. The last thing _he_ recalled was the sensation of being punched four times in quick succession…. and what could possibly be the flapping of large wings.

_-TRUDY-_

"That… was amazing. You took the guy out with one kick!" Once again, the stories had simply not done the reality of Gran-Gran justice.

"I take no pleasure in violence," she responded. "But on some occasions, force is necessary. I strive to use the minimum needed amount to accomplish my goals." She smiled. "Though I can't say my dander isn't up. That was a nice trick with your little light bomb, by the way,"

"I call 'em 'flashbangs'." I corrected. Aunt Rhonda did say branding is very important.

"Whatever they're called, how many can you pull off?"

"Maybe two. If there was more light around I could soak it up and recharge, but they keep 'em pretty low here. So… what's the plan, we Die Hard these guys one at a time until we get to the locker where my parents and godparents are being held?"

"Ah, a student of the classics, I see. Hmm… it might be a better idea if we split up. I'll mop up these mugs… you go find your folks and their friends. You know exactly where they're being kept, after all."

"Are you sure? I don't feel great about leaving you alone to take on all these goons."

"Don't worry about me, Corporal. They need your special talents more than I do."

"True enough… I suppose I'm holding you back more than anything." I eyed the nearby bank of lockers… while I still wasn't quite up to flying, I could probably scale it pretty easily, and glide from one to the next. Plus, an aerial view might make it easier to at least try to keep track of Gran-Gran. "All right. Just holler if you need me. These crazy ears of mine aren't just for decoration."

"Godspeed, soldier," Gran-Gran said, saluting, as I scaled the building. "Future's gonna be weeeeird," she mused.

* * *

_MEANWHILE_

_BUT, LIKE, IN ALMOST 160 YEARS_

The thirty-six-year-old version of Helga Pataki was back in both her human form and her top, pacing the BITT offices nervously. Her unease was growing into a tangible entity. She called it Stressagor. It had three heads that spewed acid. One to give each of her stomachs an ulcer.

"I don't get it," she finally told Block. "Couldn't we just go now? It's time travel, right? It shouldn't matter when we leave… just when we arrive."

"It's not that easy," Block replied irritably… like everything he did. "We need calculations, preparations…. We have to pinpoint the exact time and location for you and the cleaner team to arrive."

"Cleaner team?"

"Standard procedure when this sort of thing occurs," Cavendish informed. "Damage must be cleaned up, memories must be altered… any record of your daughter existing in that time period needs to be removed. Naturally, I will be taking the initiative, seeing as I am partially responsible for this particular inicident."

"Nonsense. You're _fully_ responsible," corrected Block. "After a screw up like this, I wouldn't even put you in charge of Dakota's birthday party."

"Aww…" Dakota whined. "I was gonna ask for an ice cream cake."

"So," Block continued, "I've decided to put a competent team in charge of the operation."

On cue, his intercom beeped. "Agents Savannah and Brick are here to see you," announced Paula.

"Finally," he said. "Send them in."

On his command, two new agents entered the room. One was a tall, handsome man I a tuxedo who looked like he could have stepped directly out of a James Bond movie. The second was a stunningly beautiful woman of indeterminate origin with long dark hair in a light blue evening gown. Now, Helga was deeply in love with the single most wonderful man on Earth, but she was only (metaphorically) human, and that and mild latent bisexual tendencies prompted her to take a second glance.

_Okay, that's enough, _she told herself. _You now owe Arnold one second glance free of snark._

The female agent lazily regarded those gathered. "So, what'd fine mess did Laurel and Hardy get themselves into this time?" she asked arching a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. _Princess would be so jealous_, she mused to herself with a smirk.

"We need you for a clean job Savannah," Block explained. "Memory alterations, record modifications, security footage replacement, the whole enchilada." Helga's stomach growled. Stupid stress-appetite… "Ms. Pataki here will be joining you. She's-

"I know who she is," Savannah interjected. "Some of us are up on our history."

"Mr. Block, I must protest," Cavendish interrupted. "I should remain in charge of this operation. Miss Savannah has absolutely no knowledge of the situation…"

"Actually, we've both been fully briefed. We've received a full record of everyone Gertrude Pataki-Shortman has interacted with during her stay in 2017 and are preparing a set of edited memory-engrams for each of them that will erase her presence while causing minimal change to the rest of their memories, with special attention to Pataki, Lloyd, Heyerdahl and Robinson to assure the future changes to their brain chemistry don't undo the alterations."

"Ahem," Helga signaled. "You guys can take care of the others, but I will personally be handling my past self. Nobody messes with little Helga's mind except me."

"Hey!" the male agent, who up to this point had felt like he was just part of the background, snapped. "You can't just let some rando civilian handle BITT tech! Especially one from the Stupid Ages!"

"Ex_cuse_ me, Tuxedo Boy?" Helga growled. "I am not just some rando. I have faced things that would make you wet your pants. Aliens. Monsters. Pandimensional cosmic horrors. The _PTA_." She poked the male agent in the chest. "If you think you can pull rank on me, Douche Bond, you've got another think coming."

"*snort* "Douche Bond," snickered Cavendish uncharacteristically. "I'll have to remember that one."

"Now, you listen here…" responded the male irately.

Savannah yawned. "Brick, put it back in your pants," she advised. "Trust me, you don't have the length to compete."

Brick stood there for a minute, stewing, before backing down. "Do too,", he muttered.

"Not even metaphorically," quipped Helga. "Thanks for backing me up there."

"Oh, I'm not," Savannah clarified, "I just like deflating him when he gets puffed up. I don't particularly care for superheroes. I think you're a bunch of flashy glory-hounds."

"…she said, wearing a designer evening dress on a supposed covert mission. You don't have a Lloyd in your family tree, do you?"

"If I did I'm sure you'd be aware of it. I'm fairly certain Ka'Thaari genes don't dilute."

"I was joking,"

"That's one interpretation," she said dismissively. _Well, she's certainly as smug as Rhonda, _Helga mused. She was allowed of course. As one of Rhonda's dearest and closest friends, she had full license to trash her and vice-versa.

"You'll be leaving at 1800," Block stated. "You will have access to twenty cleaners for this mission. They should get the job doe if they work fast and efficiently."

"Mr. Block," asked Cavendish, "I would like to request that we be placed back on this mission. I would be willing to work," he swallowed his pride, "under Brick and Savannah." The more competent agents smirked at his humbling.

"Name one reason why I should let you anywhere near this mission," Block responded.

"Because I say they should," Helga intervened.

"Oh, what, now the _cape's_ calling the shots?" asked Savannah irritatedly.

"First off, I don't wear a cape. Clashes with the wings. Second, I'm a firm believer in giving f***-ups a chance to un-f***-up, on account of I used to be a bit of one myself. And thirdly, it annoys you, so that's just a bonus." She folded her arms across her chest with a confident smile.

Block sighed. "All right, fine… against my better judgement, you two are back on the case. But if they mess up again, they're your problem."

"That's fair," agreed Helga, who delivered a smirk of her own to Savannah.

"…f*** my life," muttered Savannah.

* * *

_-ARNOLD-_

Once Phoebe managed to free herself from the chair, it was only a short time before the rest of us were free from our restraints.

Helga stretched, rubbing her rope burns. "Well, I know one place that's getting a one-star rating.

"C'mon," I said. "We need to grab whatever we can to fight back and get on either side of the door so Nick can't see us. When he comes to check on us, we should be able to surprise him."

"Hey, who died and put you in charge, Football-Head?" protested Helga. I sensed it was a bit half-hearted, almost out of obligation, as if she felt she was expected to contradict anything I had to say.

"Arnold's course of action is the most sound and logical tactic," Phoebe advised her friend. "Taking on our imprisoner head-on might work in the event that he is unarmed… however, in the likely event he is, there is a definite chance one of us may be injured in the process. An ambush lowers that probability significantly."

"How crazy is it that this kinda thing keeps happening to us?" Gerald asked.

"Well, hopefully, this is the last time," I assured. It seemed like the right thing to say. I mean, what were the odds that we'd be captured by criminals _again_ anytime soon?

"In any case, it would be prudent to arm ourselves with whatever items we feel most comfortable using." She picked up a loose metal rod and took a few experimental parries and thrusts. "Hmm… not the weight I'm accustomed to, but this should do nicely," she said approvingly.

The rest of us grabbed whatever we could, and waited.

…and waited, and waited.

Helga groaned in frustration. "Who knew waiting to beat the snot outta someone could be so _boring_?" she whined.

"Shhh," I said, listening. I had just heard a very odd sound.

"Don't you shush me. I do the shushing," she complained.

"No, I think I heard something. A thump."

"Oh, a _thump_. How mind-numbingly fascinating," Helga replied sarcastically.

*Thump*

"That one sounded closer," Gerald said. "I think it's something on the roof."

"Doi, probably just some dumb bird." Helga dismissed.

"I doubt the local fowl would be heavy enough to cause such an impact. It sounds more like footsteps."

"Footsteps? What kind of idiot would be dumb enough to run around on the roof of this place?"

Actually, I had an idea of who it could be. An idea that would soon be confirmed when the sound of footsteps bounding across the roof were replaced with the impact of someone landing just outside the door, the thump of a fist knocking on the storage unit's door, and the sound of a welcome voice.

"Hey! Are you guys okay in there?"

"We're fine, Trudy." I responded. "Are you?"

"Five by five, Arnold. Gra- Your grandma managed to find me before anyone else did."

"Grandma's out there?" I replied with alarm.

"Bro, your grandma's a black belt in like five different martial arts," reminded Gerald. "She ain't the one who's in danger."

"She's still just one old woman vs… whoever's out there. Can you blame me for being worried."

"As much as I hate to agree with Tall Hair boy, he's probably right. Your grandma may be coo-coo for Sugar Chunks, but she's also a badass. She's fine. Worry less about her and more about us. Like how your new girlfriend's gonna get us out of here."

"There's a tiny gap between the bottom of the door and the ground," Trudy replied. "You could slide the key under it so I can get you out."

"You have a KEY?" hissed Helga.

"Not anymore," I informed. "They took it off me when they tied me up."

"Crap," Trudy muttered. "That would've been a lot easier. Hold on… there's something else I can try, but I don't know if I'm strong enough to do it. Cross your fingers for me… and try not to freak out too much."

"Arnold, what's she talking about? Why would we freak out?"

The four of us watched as Trudy slid her fingers under the door. Twelve red, taloned fingers on four separate hands. Helga mouthed "what the…" as Phoebe counted the hands on her own fingers, trying to confirm that she had in fact seen what she did.

With a pained grunt, Trudy forced the door upward. My friends continued to stare unbelievably as she pushed it halfway open before stopping to catch her breath. "Whew," the mutated girl breathed. "That took more out of me than I expected. So, uh, hey… this is what I really look like…" She seemed to almost shrink a bit, her wings folding into a more submissive position. "I'm not going to, like, eat you or anything…"

I looked over my friends, trying to gauge their reactions. They ranged from apprehension (Gerald), to quizzical curiosity (Phoebe), to what seemed like awe (Helga).

"Well, I guess this explains why you didn't want to tell us the truth," Gerald acknowledged. "This is… kinda hard to explain."

"I'll say," Helga said, staring as if it was _she_ who was smitten. "Are you a _demon_? That has to be the most awesome thing ever! Can you suck out people's souls? Can you suck out _Olga's_ soul? Hmm, no… she'd have to have one…"

"Helga, that's absurd," Phoebe interjected. "There is no proof that supernatural beings such as demons exist. There must be a rational explanation for Trudy's… admittedly unusual appearance. Granted, I'm… a bit at a loss to think of one…" She rubbed her chin, trying to process the events.

"Pheebs. Get your eyes checked. Red chick. Bat wings. Tail. Fangs. The only thing missing is horns."

"Under my hat," Trudy admitted. "They're kinda small." Helga regarded Phoebe with a smug expression. "She's right, though, I'm not a demon." The expression immediately faded and reappeared on Phoebe's face.

"I knew it," she said. "There is a rational explanation. Which is…" she prompted, hoping an answer that made a lick of sense would present itself.

"I'm a second-generation half-alien mutant," Trudy explained.

"That just raises even more questions!" wailed Phoebe.

"Guys," I interrupted. "It doesn't matter what Trudy is. What matters is that she's our friend and she just saved us."

"And that she could teach us how to conjure portals to hell," added Helga a bit too eagerly.

"Once again, not a demon," reminded Trudy.

"Let me dream, Mystery Girl, let me dream."

"Can we just go home?" asked Phoebe wearily. "It's been a long, harrowing, and ultimately confusing night and I have a lot of beliefs I have to reconsider."

"I am definitely with Phoebe," added Gerald. "I just wanna forget any of this ever happened."

"And Football-Head probably wants some alone-time with his new girl," Helga remarked… and was I imagining it, or did she sound like she was actually okay with it?

"Okay, hold on," interrupted Trudy, waving her upper hands for attention. "I just want to make one thing perfectly clear here. There is absolutely nothing going on between me and Arnold, and there will absolutely, positively never be anything between me and Arnold."

Well, that settled it, didn't it? The door had slammed in my face once again. Clearly, something about me just didn't appeal to girls. Maybe I was just destined to be alone. But this time, I wasn't going to just back away without an explanation.

"Why?" I asked. "We get along. We have a lot of the same interests. Why don't you want to give me a chance?"

I had put her on the spot in front of my friends, and that probably wasn't a great thing to do, especially given the situation we were in at the moment, but I was just tired of rejection at this point. All I wanted was some explanation.

Trudy sighed, clearly thinking about what she was going to say. Finally, she answered "You're right. It would be wrong of me to not at least give you an honest answer. The truth is… I'm g-"

"Well," a sleazy voice said, "Looks like we got us a little prison break here."

Nick Vermicelli had appeared behind us, with Frankie G. and two more goons, all of them with guns drawn. We had been so caught up in our drama, that we hadn't been paying attention, and now, they had the drop on us, instead of the other way around.

* * *

**A. N.: Oh snap. You know what they say, save the drama for **_**after**_** the prison break! Its all coming down to this… has Trudy regained enough of her power to be able to handle four armed men? Will Grandma arrive in time? Will Arnold learn the **_**real**_** real reason why Trudy doesn't want to date him and be horrified beyond belief? All these questions and more in the second half of the climax, next chapter!**

**J.A.M.: Or she could tell him she's gay like she was about to, which has the added bonus of not making Trudy feel like she's lying to her dad.**

**Four kids vs. one adult, decent odds. Five kids vs. four adults with guns, less decent odds, even when one has superpowers.**

**Jose: Helga's trying, she really is. And De Palma is definitely facing a pretty bad disciplinary hearing and will be lucky if he doesn't get busted down to mall cop.**

**LP: Nick may not know what he's getting into, but he's not to be taken lightly.**

**Cre8tively: Well, the time travelers and Adult Helga are back this chapter, and we now more about what they've got planned (Savannah and Brick, BTW, are rival agents to Cavendish and Dakota, and as a bonus they're voiced by Ming-Na Wen and Brett Dalton from Agents of SHIELD. So, that's a little backstory on those two for those not familiar with them.) As for the rest of the climax, well, that's coming next. Stay tuned!**


	18. Stuff Keeps Going Down

A.N.: Shoutout to fruitstripegum on TVTropes, who apparently thought my nonsense was worthy of a mention on the Hey Arnold Fanfic Recommendations page. Thanks, whoever you are!

Chapter 17

Stuff Keeps Going Down

_Anolabehere Brothers Self-Storage, in front of Unit 12A_

_-TRUDY-_

So, here we were. I'd managed to find the right unit and liberate Arnold, Helga, Gerald and Phoebe – my future parents and godparents, respectively. This would normally have been pretty easy for me, but I'd just discovered that trying to push off reverting to my natural state had some pretty bad consequences, namely a really bad deficit that left me without a good chunk of my power.

See, normally, I've got access to superstrength, increased speed and reflexes, flight, and light manipulation, but that pesky energy deficit has left my muscled feeling leaden and sluggish, so even a simple feat of strength like lifting a metal roll-up storage locker door takes a lot out of me right now, and forget about defying gravity or converting my internal energy to light for "flashbangs" or lasers. And good luck recharging given how dark this night was… even the full moon was doing little to help.

Now, it shouldn't matter, right? All that should matter is that I got them free and all we had to do at that point was get our butts out of there. Unfortunately, distractions abound. First off, there was their reactions to the fact that my natural form doesn't exactly fit the standard human model, what with the bright red skin and the wings and tail and extra eye and set of arms and etcetera. Pretty understandable, given that there was absolutely nothing like me out there (yet; in fact, half the party would be looking a lot like me before the year was out). Reactions were mixed… Gerald was eyeing me as if I might eat him, Phoebe was having an existential crisis, and mom was convinced I could give her an inside track to learning the Dark Arts.

Arnold… Arnold was a different problem. Arnold… had a bit of a crush on me.

Yes. That is every bit as disturbing as it sounds.

Okay, to be perfectly fair, he has absolutely no reason to know that half of me literally sprang from inside his body, and it's not like I had any intention of telling him, because that is the kind of thing that could lead to hideous consequences, up to and including apes ruling the world. That doesn't make the situation any less awkward.

So, earlier today, he asked me out, I turned him down (_of course_), he was kind of upset and wanted an explanation that I really couldn't give (What was I gonna say, "I can't date you because in fourteen years you will _make_ me?") and then the whole thing got derailed by admittedly much greater concerns until just this very moment.

Of course, by now, I'd thought of an actual very good excuse for why I can't go out with him one actually rooted in the truth, to wit; I am, in fact, gay. This is a fact. I would not be the least bit attracted to him even if he wasn't my future father. Of course, the fact that he is means that my orientation isn't even remotely on my mind in regards to why this is horribly wrong, but t did provide a very convenient out to addressing the real problem, and I was ready to go with it.

But this is when it became very clear that our group had fallen prey to one of the classic blunders: never get sidetracked by personal drama when you're trying to escape the bad guys.

**[A.N.: I believe it's third, behind "never go in against a Sicilian when death is on the line."]**

So, now, here we are, caught off-guard by Nick Vermicelli and three of his stooges, and they're all armed. This isn't so bad for me, since I'm bulletproof in this form. Everyone else? Yeah, this is very bad for them, and I'm not in the condition to move fast enough to stop all four of them before they shoot.

Also, I've never been shot before, but Mom told me it hurts pretty bad even if you _are_ bulletproof (We're talking a tiny piece of metal hitting your skin at over 1500 MPH, after all), so I want to avoid that eventuality if at all possible.

"Well," Nick had said upon surprising us, "Looks like we got us a little prison break here."

"See?" the one my dad had called Frankie G told him. "I told ya there was some kind of devil girl."

"So I see," Nick commented, seemingly unconcerned, an eyebrow raised. "I wonder how much we could get for you?"

"She doesn't have anything to do with this!" objected my dad.

"Well, that's clearly a lie, since my pal Frankie here tells me she was helping you snoop around," he commented sardonically. "No, I'm thinking this little freak definitely has some connection here. Only, I think ransom might be the wrong way to go with this one. I mean, who'd pay to get something like this back?" He smirked as he poked me in the ribs with the gun, and it occurred to me that even my skin might not stop a bullet fired from _that_ close.

…oh crap, I really could die here. I could die years before I'm even born.

"Y'know," he said, "I bet there are some folks out there who'd pay some serious coin for a specimen like you." He sneered greedily. "And I could name any price I wanted. I mean, where else are they gonna go?"

"You gonna take that?" my mom whispered. "Call your hellish minions down on them!"

"For the last time, I'm not a demon," I reminded her. "I'm just a ten-year-old kid who looks like one and who _should _have powers but most of them aren't working right." If they were, this wouldn't be a problem. I could blind them all and knock them out while they were trying to recover. But right now, I'm helpless and I don't like it.

"This kid gets it," Nick remarked. "I'm calling the shots right now. Don't think I'm above perforatin' a kid. Maybe before jail, but not now. That's the funny thing about jail, see… it's supposed to rehabilitate us criminal-types, but in practice… we just get meaner."

"Look," Dad said, "I don't know what happened to you in there, but if you think this is going to help you in any way…"

"Oh, I think it will. I think selling the monster'll get me enough money to get to a country with no extradition treaties and a more laid-back approach to creative entrepreneurship. Speaking of which… maybe I can offload the rest of you too. There's places that aren't very picky, of you know what I mean."

"Criminy, were you always this much of a sleazeball?" demanded Mom. "Bob was right to beat the snot outta you. Heck, if I told him what you just said, he'd probably finish the job."

Nick's attention shifted to her. "Thanks for reminding me, blondie. I really should thank him for that. Maybe I should send him a little surprise. Think he'd recognize your ear if I sent it to him in a box?"

From her sudden horrified expression, it became clear that Mom was not expecting Nick to be this unhinged. She'd always been a tough girl, and remained so even after marriage and two kids, but… this Mom was still a kid. And no matter how tough she was… there was a limit. A threat like that was blunt enough to dull even Helga Pataki's sharp tongue.

"You can't talk to her like that," Dad said, stepping forward, his sense of justice overcoming his common sense.

"Oh, don't think I've forgotten about you, head boy.", Nick said, his grin growing ever more manic. "In fact… you know what?" He took direct aim. "I think I'm just gonna kill you. Gonna be hard to miss _that_ head."

At this point, it seemed like, barring divine intervention, we had lost.

And then, we heard it… a strange, loud, rhythmic noise. Almost inhuman-sounding. And it sounded like it was coming closer.

"Uh, boss," whispered Frankie G, "Do you hear something?"

The strange, monstrous noise approached from the far end of the lane, accompanied by a looming, misshapen shadow.

"Oh, s***… it's that thing's daddy!" suggested another of the goons. "Forget this… I'm outta here!" The thug bolted, and his other cohort decided that his courage was equally lacking, and decided to join him.

"Buncha flippin' p***ies," Nick called after them. "What, you gonna run off now? Probably a freakin' raccoon or something."

"That don't sound like no raccoon I ever heard," Frankie G replied. "I'm gone, baby. You ain't payin' me enough for this." He ran off into the night as well.

No longer having any backup to count on, Nik couldn't help but turn his attention, and aim, to the approaching shadowy figure, and in that moment, I finally had my opening. I delivered a quick chop to his gun-wielding arm, forcing him to drop it.

"Hey! You lousy fre-" He managed to partially spit out as he dove for it, only to be kicked in the head by Mom.

"That's for sending your goons to grab me." she snapped. "And this," She delivered a Five Avengers to his gut, "is for tying me up in a gross storage locker! And _this_…" Old Betsy smashed his nose "is for making me _pee in a coffee can_!"

And that did it. For all Nick's talk of prison toughening him up, he still boasted a glass jaw. The criminal collapsed to the ground like a sack of expired potatoes.

"Aw, c'mon!" Mom demanded, rubbing her sore knuckles. "That's it? I'm not done with you!" She shook the unconscious creep. "Wake up so I can pound you some more!"

"Helga!" Dad interrupted, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder. "It's over."

The touch had an almost immediate calming effect, as his contact seemed to almost send an electrical charge through her body that dissipated her blind fury."

"H-he… he was… he was going to-"

"I know," Dad said. "But it's over…"

"…yeah," she said, calming. "Also… you're touching me, Football-Head."

"Sorry," he said, quickly withdrawing.

"Uh…" Gerald reminded, gesturing toward that weird rasping shadow-thing. "I don't think it's over yet… there's still whatever that is."

The five of us tensed as the thing approached. Oddly, it actually seemed to get smaller as it got closer, dwindiling to a more human-proportioned figure while the noise resolved into a raspy asthmatic wheeze, until the source finally revealed itself… a slim figure with a pale blond flattop and glasses.

Those of us native to this decade groaned, as they were clearly familiar with the newcomer. "Brainy," asked Dad, "What are you doing here?"

"Uhhh… callback," he replied enigmatically.

"Weirdo," muttered my mom.

* * *

-HELGA-

At this point, it was pretty much all over but the shouting.

The cops had arrived only minutes later, having received calls from Phoebe's and Gerald's folks, Arnold's Grandpa, and to my shock of shocks, even Big Bob. Surprise surprise, someone _had_ noticed I was gone.

By the time that I arrived, the cops had found most of the gang subdued and tied up, courtesy of Arnold's Grandma. A couple had managed to escape, including Frankie G.

The moment she'd heard the sirens, Trudy had scurried off into the shadows. I didn't blame her one bit; her presence would be very hard to explain. Brainy, too had vanished without a trace at some point while the cops were mopping up, and I, not for the first time, found myself wondering if he had ever really been there at all, or, in fact, even existed. There was something really weird about how he seemed to always be able to find me no matter where I was, and come to think of it did he really talk to anyone? Maybe I was imagining him the whole time…

…no, wait, that made no sense. Of course I've seen other people react to him. Yeesh, I'm crazy, but I'm not that crazy. Not yet, anyway.

With the cops here, there were of course, a lot of questions that needed answering. We supplied answers, avoiding any mention of bright red bat-winged tweens by unspoken but mutual agreement that it was better the authorities didn't know about Trudy. Not being all that eager to answer questions, I snuck off the first chance I could.

I looked on from my vantage point in the shadows as the cops loaded Nick Vermicelli and his associates into the back of the paddy wagon. It didn't matter how resourceful his lawyer was this time, there was no way the man was getting out of prison any time soon. Not on multiple counts of kidnapping and attempted murder.

Arnold, Gerald and Phoebe sat on the sidelines, wrapped in the blankets the police had left. They would still remain in the area until everything was in order, but for now, the situation was at an end. Arnold's grandmother, clad in camo fatigues and an army helmet, stood vigil, assuring no further harm would come to the children. I was certain the tough old bird was up to the task.

"So, you gonna go talk to him or what?" asked a voice to my left.

"What would be the point?" I asked its owner.

"Well he kinda does owe you his life," the red-skinned, multilimbed, three-eyed preteen replied with an impish grin. "People do tend to be grateful in that kind of situation."

"Yeah, right," I muttered. "Like I could've done any of it without your help. Besides, if I do, I'll probably just wind up sabotaging myself like I always do. It doesn't matter how many grand gestures I make. He's never going to see me as anything more that that weird, mean, ugly girl who's constantly tormenting him."

"That's not true, Helga," she said. "I think your persistence is going to pay off in the long run. Probably sooner than you think."

"What are you talking about? The boy's head over heels for YOU, Trudy. Not me. Even knowing what you really are."

Trudy shook her head. "Believe me, Helga. The absolute last thing I want to do is get involved with Arnold Shortman." She shuddered at the thought.

Despite myself, I found myself taking offense at her flat-out rejection of my beloved. "What, so now he's not good enough for you? Miss Mutant here thinks she's better than him?"

"Trust me, Helga, that's not the reason at all."

"Then what is it? What could possibly be the reason you'd reject Arnold?"

"Well… for one thing, I'm hecka gay."

A very long, uncomfortable silence, as it sank in and I realized just how completely off my reading of the situation was.

"Ohhhhhh," I finally replied, breaking it.

"Actually, I should probably break it to him. He thinks I've been rejecting him because of something wrong with him. And that's the last thing I want. But… the area's still crawling with cops, and I can't let myself be seen like this. It's still gonna be a bit before I can go human again."

"Jeez, what is with you? It's like you have some kind of vested interest in seeing the two of us get together."

"Maybe I'm just a shipper at heart," she said, smirking. "Maybe I think you two would be cute together. Maybe I have other reasons. Does it matter? I'm on your side here."

"Yeah, but why? What IS your deal, anyway? You show up outta nowhere, nothing about your background makes sense, and you're secretly some kind of awesome super-powered monster girl? What's your story, and why do you care so much about what happens to me? Are you my guardian angel or something? Figures mine would look more like she came from the other place…"

"I… I can't say. I wish I could tell you. I wish I could tell you everything, but I can't. I really shouldn't have even stayed here as long as I have, but I couldn't resist getting to know them, even though it was probably the wrong thing. As it is, today's probably the last day any of you will ever see me."

"Getting to know who? What are you talking about? Why do you have to go?"

"Because I was never supposed to be here to begin with! Every minute I'm here there's more of a potential for things to go wrong."

"Why, though? What's the big deal? Barely anyone knows about this whole situation here. Just a few kids who won't tell anyone, a bunch of criminals who nobody will believe, and a 'crazy' old lady."

"It's not just that. I…"

We were interrupted by a strange noise from behind us… stranger still considering we were in a dead-end alley and all that was behind us was a brick wall. Said wall seemed to distort and deform before our eyes, opening to reveal swirling portal. Three figures stepped through, two men and a woman. One of the men appeared tall and distinguished, dressed in anachronistic Victorian-esque attire, complete with pince-nez glasses and a top hat adorned with needless goggles. The other man was much more casually dressed in a red, orange and yellow tracksuit and sunglasses.

It was the third that captured my attention the most. She was a tall, striking blonde clad in jean shorts, a T-Shirt advertising something called "Monster Princess", and sunglasses, as if she'd just come from some sort of vacation.

I didn't have much time to speculate on the woman's identity, because it was immediately revealed when Trudy yelled "MOM!" and leaped into her waiting arms.

"Mom?" I repeated, incredulously.

"That's right, Helga," the woman replied warmly. "I'll be taking my girl home now. Thanks for taking care of her, but then, I expected no less from you."

My eyes narrowed at her. "Wait… how do you even know my name?" I glared at her. "Is this some kind of scam? Have you been spying on me or something?"

"Nothing like that," she said. "The answer's a lot simpler."

"What do you mean?"

"Well… I guess it wouldn't hurt to tell you. Considering none of you are going to remember any of this."

"Pataki," a woman in a pale blue evening dress warned. "Wrap it up. The temporal stasis field is almost ready. Once we activate it, we can start cleaning."

"…wait…" I said. "Did she just call you-" My mind was racing. I started to look at the woman's face…. _really_ look at it. Pieces of a puzzle I hadn't even known I was looking at were starting to slide into place.

"Just give me a few minutes, okay, Savannah?" the woman answered her. "Another few minutes isn't going to make a difference." She turned back toward me. "So… I guess you heard what she called me, right?"

"It's not like I could miss it," I replied. "So… you're, what, my great-great-great-etcetera granddaughter from the year 2525?."

"Not quite," she said, smiling warmly. "I am from the future, just not _that_ far off." She rummaged under her T-shirt, bringing out a golden object. "Tell me… does _this_ look familiar?"

I stared at the heart-shaped pendant. The photo it framed had changed… it now held a portrait of a happy family. Including herself, Trudy's human incarnation, an oblong-headed male toddler, and… it could only be _him_.

"You're…" I could scarcely form the words.

"That's right," she said. "I'm you."

Whoa. Who woulda thunk it.

I grow up _hot_.

* * *

**A.N.: No, you're not having a déjà vu moment. A large chunk of this chapter **_**was**_** copy-pasted from Ch. 8. Of course, some of the plot beats I ended up using weren't quite in place yet when I wrote that chapter, so I had to double-check to make sure the scene stayed consistent. I hope I managed to keep everything straight.**

**I'd like to thank a good friend of mine for helping with the climax… I was having difficulty resolving the standoff, and he suggested using Brainy to provide the necessary distraction to turn the tables. **

**J.A.M.: Like I said, one of the classic blunders.**

**Cre8tively: Well, not too well; Phoebe, for one, was having a lot of difficulty processing the existence of mutants and aliens. As for whether Arnold learns the truth.. well, see next chapter. : ) **

**Jose: As I just said, we'll see just what Arnold finds out next chapter.**

**Em Pataki: Tom Petty was right.**

**Next: The conclusion!**


	19. Redacting the Past

Chapter 18

Redacting the Past

_-HELGA-_

_-THE OLDER ONE-_

"You're… me." my younger self repeated.

"That's right," I said.

"So… that means…" the continued, putting the pieces together, "that she… is our…"

"That's right," Trudy supplied. "You and Arnold are my parents. Or… you will be. Eventually."

Helga backed away. "No… no way… that can't be right…"

She was having problems accepting it. I knew.. because I remembered having problems accepting it. And hey… could I blame me? On the one hand… the prospect that I would one day be married to Arnold would have been like a dream come true… on the other, the young me had been conditioned by a difficult life not to believe in dreams coming true. For the young me, disappointment was practically a way of life… why would it change?

And then there was the whole children factor. Back in the day, I would often have daydreams about what married life with Arnold would be like. They would be grand, elaborate fantasies full of glamor and excitement… we would be globetrotting adventurers, or swashbuckling pirates, or an intrepid spy couple… maybe he'd be a fugitive from justice and I'd be the hardboiled detective out to clear his name, or I'd be a powerful business mogul and he'd be the one man who could melt my cold heart… I was even president a bunch of times. And I'm pretty sure there was one where we traveled the galaxy fighting robot ninjas, but that was after a large sausage-fried-pickle-and-jalapeno pizza with ranch dip (it's amazing what you'll eat on a dare), so I'm blameless for that one.

One thing that almost never factored in was children. I think they only came up in one of my dreams, and I'd delegated the actual work of carrying the child to Arnold (biological necessities be damned). Whether it was just my general selfishness or a subconscious belief that I would probably make a terrible mother due to my numerous personality flaws and my own parents' utter inadequacy at providing a useful example, the thought of myself as an actual _mother_ just flat-out never occurred to me. And this was before I just flat-out became a completely different _species_. Honestly, the fact that I'm somehow compatible enough with Arnold that I can get pregnant – twice – is nothing short of a miracle.

"Hard to believe, huh?" I asked.

"Yer darn tootin' its hard to believe!" younger me responded. "Hey, kid, I'm just gonna warp here through a wall with my cosplay brigade and casually drop that I'm the super-hot you from the future where you've married your dream guy and had babies ever after, one of which somehow is some kind of super-powered wonder being. Frankly, I'm beginning to wonder if I really did make it to the Dusk-to-Dawn last night and all this isn't just some prolonged sugar high from a triple-syrup Slusho."

"Oh, yeah," I said. "Remember that time when we were seven, and we got the king-sized triple-flavor Slusho and became convinced that we could force squirrels to do our bidding?"

"Heh heh, yeah, I made a cape out of a towel and a crown out of a used instant noodle bowl and stood in the middle of the park yelling-"

"-OBEY ME, PEASANTS, FOR I AM YOUR QUEEN!" I joined in. "NOW FETCH ME SID'S SCOOTER! I WISH TO TRAVEL IN STYLE!"

We both chuckled at the shared memory. "So, you really are me," Younger Me said.

"That's right," I reconfirmed.

"So… it… it really does get better?"

"It really does, yeah."

"And what happens to us? Yeah, I'm hot and I've got a family and all that crap, but do we get rich and famous and achieve world domination?"

"Mmm… well, maybe not the last part, but we do write a lot of best-selling books and win an award or two, and I recently signed a movie deal for one of them, which is probably gonna lead to a merchandizing bonanza. Oh, and… super-powers."

Young Me's eyes widened. "Seriously?"

"Where do you think she gets it from?" I clarified, indicating my daughter, who waved back. " I'd show you, but my shirt would rip off and I'd give all these guys a lot more of a view than I want. So… you may not be the first Nobel Prize-winning female president with the power to see through walls, but you do become he first Newberry Medal-winning female city councilperson with the power to bend steel in her bare hands."

"Well… city council seems like it's a good start on my path to world domination," conceded Young Me. "Gotta start somewhere."

"That's the spirit!"

"Any other stuff you could tell me about the future? Something that'll really make my day? Like… does Lila get really, really fat or something?"

"Eh… I think I've told you more than enough," There was really no reason to be even telling myself this much beyond being self-indulgent. "I just wanted to let you know that things right now might seem pretty rotten, but they won't stay that way forever. I know it might sound weird coming from, well, you, but you have to look on the bright side."

"Criminy… you sound just like the Football Head."

I chuckled. "What can I say… he rubbed off on me over the years."

Young Me smiled for a moment, before suddenly remembering something. "Wait… you said I'm not going to remember any of this."

"Well… not this part. You'll remember the last two days, but a highly edited version of it that won't include my daughter or me. That goes for everyone else who interacted with us. The only reason _I _remember anything is because my memory wipe was recently undone."

"Well… if I'm not going to remember… if none of this matters, why even try talking to me?"

"Well… think about it. Let's say you had the chance to go back, oh, let's say… seven years. Let's say you had the opportunity to talk to one person. One little girl who's forced to walk to preschool in the rain one morning because her parents are so wrapped up in her sister—"

"That reminds me… does Olga _also_ get really really fat?"

"What _is it_ with you and people getting fat tonight? Anyhow… if you had a chance to talk to that girl, to tell her everything's going to be all right, even if it would make no difference in the end…. Wouldn't you take it?"

Young Me considered for a moment. "I… guess so," she conceded.

"Then, you see where I'm coming from. Y'know," I continued, "speaking of making no difference in the end, if there was something you want to get off your chest… something that's been weighing on you for a long time, now would be the perfect time to do it. Seeing as there'll be no consequences."

Young Me took a deep breath. "You're right." She said. "There's something I really, really want to do."

"Can I join you?" Trudy asked. "I really should go say goodbye… sure, they won't remember I was here, but I'd like some closure."

"That seems pretty reasonable," I agreed. The three of us walked over to where Arnold, Phoebe, Gerald and Gertie waited. The police were long gone by this point, and everyone was just waiting for their families to come get them. I remembered Big Bob showing up in the Hummer (a huge drain on their already-shot finances with its monumentally terrible gas mileage, but Bob refused to give it up out of sheer male pride), and clumsily trying to convey that he was worried about me, as he so often did when something bad happened… and rarely otherwise.

Gertie looked up and smiled. "Well, well," she said. "Look at you, Eleanor. All grown up."

Of _course_ she would recognize me. That woman was always a million times sharper than anyone ever gave her credit for.

"So, hey, guys," Trudy began, "I'd like you to meet my mom. She can start fires with her _mind_," she boasted.

"Sure, why not," remarked Phoebe sarcastically. "Apparently anything goes now, no matter how illogical…" She double-taked at getting a good look at me. "Wait… I feel like there's something familiar about you…"

"Anyway, Arnold?" Trudy prompted. Arnold's attention was focused on me as well, as if he was trying to make the same connection Phoebe was. I smiled inwardly, recalling just how dense the boy was at this point.

"Yes?" he asked?

"Well… since we got interrupted the last time I tried to explain myself, I figured that you deserve the explanation you didn't get the last time. And maybe a little more."

"So… what were you going to tell me?" he asked.

"I was going to tell you that the reason I didn't want to go out with you was because I'm gay."

He sighed. "Trudy, you don't have to lie to me to spare my feelings."

"It's not a lie, Arnold. You're a really great guy, kind, creative, resourceful… you never give up on anything… any girl would be lucky to have you. But the fact is I'm just plain not attracted to boys in any way, shape or form. You don't appeal to me on a romantic level at all."

"Oh," he said. "So… it wasn't something I did."

"Besides being born with a Y chromosome, no," she said, smiling. "Of course, it doesn't really matter anyway, because I'm going back home and none of you are going to remember me."

"Hold up!" Gerald interrupted. "I have the beginnings of a truly righteous new urban legend here and you're telling me I'm gonna forget all of it?"

"Yeah, afraid so. Y'see, I'm from Hillwood… just 25 years in the future."

"Oh for-" Phoebe threw up her hands in frustration. "Now I'm supposed to accept time travel as _well_?"

"So, even if I was straight, there'd be no way I could let anything happen, because it would mess up time," Trudy explained. "Sorry if you got the wrong idea, though."

"No," Arnold apologized. "I guess I was just reading something into the whole situation that never really was there. I'm sorry for putting you on the spot. It's just… something felt right about you."

"Maybe it's not me, Arnold." Trudy said, subtly shifting her eyes in Young Me's direction. "Maybe I just remind you a lot about someone else. Someone you're not sure how you feel about…"

I elbowed my younger self. "That's your cue, kiddo." I prodded.

"Yeah, yeah," she muttered, stepping forward. "Uh… Arnold… there's something I need to tell you…"

"What's that?" he asked.

"I just want to say that… that… that TRUDY'S MOM IS YOUR FUTURE WIFE! That's right, Football Head, you had a crush on your own daughter! Whattaya think about that, yutz? Man, talk about a messed-up situation, am I right?" She howled with laughter.

"I _knew_ she was gonna do that," I grumbled, rubbing my nose in irritation. Getting all my anxieties off my chest would've been great, of course… but the opportunity to troll him on this scale was one I wouldn't dare pass up. Deep emotional catharsis was one thing… getting to see Arnold's expression after I completely blew his mind? Priceless.

"Wait," Arnold stammered… "so she… and you… and…"

"Yeah, that was the third reason," admitted Trudy.

"On the plus side," remarked Gerald, "_that's_ your future wife. You are one lucky fella."

Phoebe suddenly snapped her fingers. "That's it! Now I know why she's so familiar. The resemblance is unmistakable. It was escaping me at first, but once you accept time travel as a possibility, it all makes perfect sense! Trudy's mom… is Helga's future self!"

This final revelation was too much for Arnold. With a simple "Rhonda… was right…" his eyes rolled back in his head and he passed out.

"Okay, you can wipe our memories now," Young Me stated, smiling in satisfaction. "Nothing will ever top this moment."

* * *

_REVISION_

* * *

_-HELGA-_

At this point, it was pretty much all over but the shouting.

The cops had arrived only minutes later, having received calls from Phoebe's and Gerald's folks, Arnold's Grandpa, and to my shock of shocks, even Big Bob. Surprise surprise, someone _had_ noticed I was gone.

By the time that I arrived, the cops had found most of the gang subdued and tied up, courtesy of Arnold's Grandma. A couple had managed to escape, including Frankie G.

Brainy vanished at some point, unnoticed by anyone. Not for the first time, I began to wonder if he had ever really been there, or indeed, existed at all. No… that's crazy talk. Everyone reacted to him being there. My insanity isn't THAT contagious.

In any case, as the night wore on and Nick and his gang were bundled off to holding, pending trial, and our parents/grandpa in Arnold's case were contacted to come pick us up, the rest of us spent the next hour or so giving our statements to the police. Which wasn't too bad… it wasn't as though any of us had anything to hide. All we had to do was tell them exactly what happened… Nick had kidnapped me, then Gerald and Phoebe… Arnold had investigated and attempted to free us, but had gotten caught as well; ultimately, we'd managed to free ourselves, and were confronted by an unhinged Nick and his goons, but the goons had been scared off by Brainy's arrival, and Helga had taken advantage of the distraction to subdue Nick himself.

"So," I said, after the cops had finally left, "crazy night, huh."

"Not our first," added Gerald. "Seems like just yesterday that we saved the neighborhood.

"Yes," commented Phoebe. "The big life-changing adventure that I played absolutely no part in."

"Oh, right… sorry, Pheebs," I apologized. "It was kind of a spur-of-the-moment thing."

"I could've been very helpful," Phoebe protested sulkily. "I would've made a great 'person coordinating everything back at the base'! I would've Felicity'd the heck out of the role!"

"I know, I know… look… how about, the next time we have a huge adventure, I'll make sure you get a bigger role."

"That would be nice," Phoebe said, calming.

"Maybe you'll even get to mastermind another prison beak. But what are the odds of needing to do that again, eh, Football Head?" I glanced over at Arnold, who seemed lost in thought… not exactly unusual for him, and gosh darn it if that half-lidded, vacant expression didn't set my soul ablaze with forbidden desire, but damn it I'm talking and the yutz better recognize! "Yo! Earth to Football Head!"

"Huh? Oh… just… do you get the feeling like there's something missing? Like… someone else was here?"

"Uh-_doi_, Arnoldo, you're thinking of Brainy," I snapped back. "The little creep melted back into the shadows from whence he spawned the minute the cops got here. Who knows what goes through that freak's head."

"No, someone else, Someone who-" He paused, shaking his head. "No, no, you're probably right. I'm just getting the weirdest Déjà vu is all." He got up. "It'll probably go away."

"Yeesh… you should get that huge, misshapen" beautiful, noble "head of yours examined."

We made more small talk until our folks finally showed up, first Arnold's Grandpa n the Packard, then Gerald's and Phoebe's dads, and finally Big Bob himself in the Hummer. How the heck were we still paying for the gas that thing guzzled, anyway?

"Olga!" he demanded. "Say goodbye to your little friends, we're going home! Criminy, I can't believe I had to drag myself out here at one in the morning, and now it's gonna take forever to get back to sleep… how's a guy supposed to run a beeper empire if he can't get a decent night's sleep."

"Gee, thanks for showing your _concern_, Bob," I shot back ruefully, getting in the passenger seat, as he drove off. "I'm really sorry my getting held _hostage_ ruined your _beauty sleep_."

For his part, Bob seemed to actually realize he'd overstepped. "…look… You, know I, uh… I was just… frustrated…" He rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment. "I really… whaddayacallit… care about you and stuff, you know that?"

I guess… I guess on some level, I do know that. On some deeply buried level.

Maybe it'd be less buried if he actually showed he cared when I'm not in, or just out of, mortal danger.

"*sigh* ….let's just go home, dad," I grumbled. That was about all the father-daughter interaction I had the patience for at that point. I assumed my "favorite" car pose, scowling, not facing anyone, hands in my pockets.

Except this time, there was something in my pocket.

I pulled out and unfolded the small piece of paper. On it were written the words "It's going to get better." The strange thing? It was in my own handwriting, and I didn't even remember writing it. Had my mental state degraded to the point where I was going into some kind of Jason Bourne-esque fugue state just to give myself a boost of self-confidence?

And yet… somehow, the message I'd written (how, I had no idea) made me smile a little in spite of myself.

Yeah… yeah, it was going to get better.

I mean… it wasn't like there was further _down_ to go.

* * *

_-ARNOLD-_

As Grandpa drove us home, the nagging sensation that something imperceptible had _changed_ began to fade away. Really, what could it have been, anyway? The day's events would be staying in my memory for a long time coming.

My mind began to drift to Helga, and the way her dad had snapped at her. Sure, she could be a jerk sometimes… a lot of the time, actually, but she wasn't all bad… sometimes, he even found himself thinking she was… kinda…

…anyway, even if she had been a terrible person all the time, nobody deserved that kind of treatment. A part of him had wanted to object right there, but… well… to be honest, Big Bob intimidated the heck out of him.

Grandpa must've caught me sighing (pretty sharp, as even I hadn't realized I'd done it. "Why the long face, Short Man?" he asked. "See, it's funny, because you literally have a long face… oh, whattaya expect, I'm gonna bring my 'A' material at one in the morning? Seriously… what's botherin' ya, kiddo?"

"I dunno… I just feel like I should've said something back there. I don't know if it would've done anything…"

"Probably not… that Bob's denser than Pookie's meatloaf. You could sink ships with that stuff."

"Can and have," remarked Grandma.

"But… maybe if someone showed they cared about her, maybe she'd be a bit… nicer?"

"Well, Short Man, you missed one opportunity, but it's not like you won't have others. Trust me, that girl is always underfoot. Sometimes literally," he added quietly. "You seem very interested in showing her you care all of a sudden," he teased. "Do I hear wedding bells?"

"Grandpa!" I said, scandalized. "I just want her to be nicer is all! Besides… she's eleven! And I'm not even _that_ yet!"

"Older woman, eh?" he continued to mock. Off my dirty look, he relented. "All right, all right, Arnold, I'm just pullin' yer leg is all. I know you're not nearly ready to marry her. You gotta propose first."

"Oh, Phil… there'll be plenty of time for that. About, oh, say… thirteen, fourteen years, if the math's right…" she said to herself enigmatically. "Never mind, forget I said that. Don't want to ruin the surprise…"

"Well, that settles it, Arnold, we'd better get ourselves to bed. Pookie's nonsense is getting strangely esoteric."

"No kidding… I think I just want this whole crazy night to end."

* * *

That night, the idea having been planted in his mind, Arnold would once again dream that he was about to be married to Helga. Only this time, it was far more pleasant than it had been the first time. They stood in the same temple his parents had been wed in, surrounded by everyone they cared about, dressed in the ceremonial wedding attire of the Green-Eyed tribe as had been described by his father's journal. The High Priest spoke in their ancient language, invoking the love goddess Xothipacla to bless their union. And just as he was about to lean in to kiss his beautiful new bride, he imagined he could actually see the image of the love goddess overlapping her.

And, as he awoke, he thought to himself, no… maybe, it wouldn't be so bad after all.

* * *

**A.N.: So, yeah, Phoebe was barely in the Neighborhood Movie. What's up with that?**

**Anyway, there's only one more short chapter after this. I'd like to thank all my readers for sticking with this story, and I hope the payoff was worth it. Next up, we'll be headed back to 2042 and one last surprise. **

**Crea8: Well, I hope it didn't disappoint!**

**J.A.M.: She was doing it more for her sake than for his, she wanted to get lying to her dad off her conscience.**

**Jose: Glad you liked it!**

**Next: The epilogue**


	20. Epilogue

Epilogue

_Dino Land, 2042_

"Daddy, where did Mommy go?" asked Robbie for what seemed like the millionth time.

"She just had to use the potty, pumpkin," Arnold replied. "She should be back soon,"

"But she's taking so long…" the little boy whined.

"It's only been…" he checked, "five minutes." Then again, given the text he'd gotten from his wife… "Need 2 go 2 the year 2175, BRB [heart emoji kiss emoji]" (most husbands would assume this was a joke or a sign their wife had lost it; Arnold was not most husbands), time pretty much had no meaning at this point.

"Hey," Arnold suggested, "how about when Mommy gets back, we'll go check out the go-karts, does that sound fun?"

"Okay!" Robbie replied brightly, parental abandonment forgotten. _Ah, for the attention span of a four-year-old_, thought Arnold.

"In the meantime, do you want to try one of the other rides? The trilobite train looks fun, doesn't it?"

"What's a Twibble Bite?" asked Robbie.

"It's… ah… it's like an old bug…"

"I don't like bugs…" he complained.

"Let's not tell Aunt Nadine you said that," Arnold joked, smiling. "You could wind up getting a very long lecture about how important bugs are. How they pollinate plants and provide the base of the food chain and-"

"Looks like he might get a lecture anyway, sweetheart." A pair of strong arms enveloped him from behind. "Miss me much, Football Head?"

"Mommy!" Robbie shouted, latching onto Helga's leg.

"And Trudy," their daughter said, waving behind them. "I'm also back. Hugs… would be welcome. Just saying."

"Hey there, kiddo," Helga said, hefting her son. "I hope I wasn't gone too long."

"It's only been five minutes since you texted me," Arnold informed.

"Really? It was much longer on my side." She shook her head. "You wouldn't believe where I've been and who I've seen, Arnold. Well… _you_ probably would, but nobody else."

"So," Trudy said, "you guys probably have a lot to talk about… Why don't I take Robbie for a while and we can meet back up later. How does that sound, Robbie? You wanna go hang out with the big kids for a while? Maybe even go on whatever big kid rides we can get you on?"

Robbie gasped in excitement. Even if Trudy's friends were all girls and thus weird in his eyes, they were still _big kids _with all the inherent glamor that carried, and the chance to be a part of that was catnip to any four-year-old. He eagerly jumped into Trudy's arms.

Helga smirked and shook her head again. "Fickle are the attentions of a toddler, I suppose. Anyway, be careful with him, and you'd better not get him all hopped up on candy. You _know_ he's going to pester you for it. Be strong."

"Hey! I can resist."

"Oh, please, we both know you're a soft touch when it comes to Robbie. Just promise me you won't buy him ice cream or candy. You don't want to deal with the consequences of that any more than I do."

"Mom, there's four of us and one of him. We can handle a Robbie on a sugar rush."

"No. No, you really can't. Trust me. You aren't prepared. Believe me… I've _seen_ things."

Trudy gulped. "That bad, huh. Fine. No sugar. I promise." She carried Robbie off into the milling crowd.

"She's going to crack, you know that," Arnold commented with a wry smile.

"Oh, I know," admitted Helga. "If not her, then one of the other girls. But at least this way, she'll be ready for the coming horror."

"Just as long as you know what you're doing," he replied. "So…. How did your five minutes go?"

"Oh, man…" she chuckled. "You don't even wanna know."

"It's that bad, huh?"

"Well, depending on your point of view, it could be hilarious… or horrifying. But probably both."

"…Well, you were right…" Arnold said. The two had taken seats on a nearby bench, where Helga had proceeded to give a recap of the day's adventure, or at least her part in it.

"Which way?" asked Helga. "Hilarious? Horrifying?"

"Both," Arnold said. "I can't believe I had a crush on my own daughter."

"Ah, time travel. It's like an all-you can-eat buffet of potentially disturbing possibilities. But, in your defense… there was no way you could've known."

"That doesn't make it any less weird,"

"You know what else is weird? I now have two different sets of memories for that period. I have the real ones back… but I still remember the fake ones. It's very confusing. Anyway, that's my side of the story. I'm sure Trudy'll have her own perspective to share… if she wants to."

"I bet it was every bit as embarrassing for her as it is for me… probably even more because she remembers it. I wouldn't be too surprised if she doesn't want to talk about at least that part."

"True enough." She sighed. "It wasn't all bad though. She was very happy about getting to bond with Grandma."

Arnold smiled wistfully. "It would be really nice to see her again…"

"I… I tried to tell her, you know. About the accident."

"And she wouldn't let you, would she?"

* * *

"_Uh… Pookie… before I go…"_

"_Wait just a minute, Eleanor. You wouldn't be trying to warn me about something in the future, would you?" Grandma gave her a pointed look._

"_Well… it's kind of important," I protested._

"_No. No you don't." Grandma chided. "I like my surprises, and I don't cotton to anyone trying to spoil them."_

"_I really think-"_

"_And if it's what I think you're trying to tell me… well, that's just about the last surprise you ever get. I'd hate to have that one ruined for me."_

"_But if you could get a few more years-"_

"_There's no guarantee of that, is there? If that one particular thing doesn't get me, odds are something else might. Besides… like you said, I'm not going to remember anyway, so what's the point?"_

_I sighed. "It's to make me feel better. I would have at least have made the effort."_

"_As long as you acknowledge that," Grandma replied. "You can take away that you tried, at least."_

"_Yeah, I guess." I cave her a hug. "It really was good to see you again, and I'm so glad that-"_

"_Uh-uh-uh" she interrupted. "You've got to get home. Now let's get this whole reset button pressed already, shall we? Any longer and you might let slip who wins the next Stanley Cup, and we can't have that!"_

* * *

"I'm sorry I blew it, Arnold," Helga said. "I guess you can't change fate."

"Helga…" Arnold squeezed her hand. "You know very well that it probably wouldn't have changed a thing. Even if she had remembered, she probably would've taken the risk anyway. No one could ever make Grandma change her mind when she'd set it to something." He smiled. "Kinda reminds me of someone else I love a lot."

"What, you got a woman on the side? Well, she'd better hope I never find her…"

"You got me." Arnold joked. "I've got a mistress. I've been seeing that super-hero, Temper, behind your back."

"You _dog_," teased Helga. "I oughtta deck that pink hussy." She smirked. "Or ask her for a three-way."

"Helga!" Arnold reacted, scandalized. "This is a family park!"

"I'm not hearing a no…"

"Well, not _here_…"

"That's not what you said at the Philharmonic…"

"The Philharmonic wasn't full of kids."

Helga mock-sighed. "Oh, Arnold… still a Football-Head." She pecked him on the cheek. "Promise me you'll never change."

"…it'll be more fun when we sneak back into the park after hours and do it in the Haunted House anyway."

Helga giggled. "Like I said… never change." She yawned. "What a crazy day. Kinda makes you wonder how something that crazy could happen."

* * *

Epilogue II

Or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Murphy's Law

_-ONE HOUR AGO-_

"She's gonna blow!" the nut vendor shouted, ducking for cover as his roaster caught fire and exploded, sending flaming pistachios in all directions. One just happened to strike and lodge in the control panel of the Archaopte-Whirl, sending the ride into overdrive before the operator managed to hit the emergency kill switch. After disgorging several nauseous passengers, the ride was shut down for the time being pending a thorogh examination, leaving two very disappointed prospective riders.

"Well… I guess we won't be riding that one," Amanda Murphy told her twins apologetically.

"Aw," Alan and Dana groaned.

"Still plenty of other rides here, _mijos_. Don't let it get you down, right, Milo? …Milo?"

"Huh?" The distracted man's attention snapped back. "Sorry, I thought I saw someone I recognized."

"I was just trying to tell the twins that they shouldn't let setbacks get you down."

"But we were so close to the front of the line," whined Alan.

Her husband shrugged. "Sorry, guys… Murphy's Law might strike less often these days, but when it does, you know it."

"Oh, _caro_, no need to apologize," Amanda told him, smiling sweetly. "It does make life interesting."

"Usually the initial disaster's just a setup for something else going wrong… oh, well, maybe this time it's different!" he said brightly.

"See? Look on the bright side. The line for the bumper cars is a lot shorter."

"Oooh! Bet I can smash into you more times than you smash into me!" Dana dared her brother.

"That's the spirit!" Milo encouraged, smiling. "You know… I have a cousin who used to live here. Now _that_ guy was unlucky."

THE END

* * *

**A.N.: Well, that's the end! Thanks all of you who favorited, subscribed, reviewed, or just dropped by to gawk!**

**Next: Either the Ladybug crossover or a one-shot I've had in mind involving trying to fix one of the most hated episodes.**

**J.A.M.: On can only imagine.**

**Crea8: Phoebe's lack of a role in TNM may have been its most egregious fault. I'm glad she got more of a chance to shine in the sequel.**

**Penguin: It does seem like the memory wipe didn't **_**quite **_**work, did it.**

**Jose: Yep, scientific implausibility is Phoebe's kryptonite!**

**See ya, everyone!**


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